


We Sigh in the Face of Catastrophe

by ShardOf_QuietExcitement



Series: Steel Cords [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fivesome - F/F/F/F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, G!P, Girl Penis, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Panic Attacks, Polyamorous Relationships, Polyamory, Self-Hatred, Sleep Paralysis, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, a lot of polyamory, all kinds of shit will happen, possible crossovers?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShardOf_QuietExcitement/pseuds/ShardOf_QuietExcitement
Summary: A hand reaches forward, carefully shutting the locker. When the palm flattens against the cold scratches of the compartment, teeth clench and a lip curls up into a grimace, but the hand doesn't snatch itself away. It stays. It feels the sting. The palm pushes further until digits spread out, trembling, a more important detail than the wrinkled fingers after a cold shower. This person sucks in a breath through her nose, fighting off the sudden warmth that appears on the surface of her already obscured vision. Squinting, a drop languidly spills from her eye, yet instead, she chooses to notice the swelling along her knuckles and the small cuts that have emerged.Withdrawing the injured hand, she snaps the lock into place. Exactly as every single school day, the thumb, the pointer, and the middle twist the combination three times to the right until it gets to the line of zero. One. Two. Three. Four. Five tugs. Putting all her force on her pointer, she pushes down, then counts to ten all the while gazing at the dip in her joint, her special callus reminding her just how many times she has done this before.
Relationships: Brittany S. Pierce/Original Character(s), Quinn Fabray/Brittany S. Pierce, Quinn Fabray/Original Character(s), Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez, Rachel Berry/Brittany S. Pierce, Rachel Berry/Original Character(s), Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce/Original Female Character(s), Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Original Character(s), Suzy Pepper & Original Character(s)
Series: Steel Cords [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678984
Comments: 62
Kudos: 46





	1. Quarter to Seven

**Author's Note:**

> For those who have read this, you may hate me because I'm changing the character's name...
> 
> Songs Used: 
> 
>   
> Hit the Road Jack by Throttle

_"Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls."_

_\- Joseph Campbell_

* * *

Sighing, a teenager with fifteen years of living under her belt slouches back into the comfort of the couch and then deciding against it; she droops downward, almost boneless with the way her spine pops when she slithers, followed by a strangled exclamation of relief. Now lying in a heap next to the table, the spectacled girl throws her leg up onto the couch, her big toe and long toe working together to pinch the corner of the fattest pillow that she now deemed her favorite. She was content there, basking in the almost noiseless atmosphere save for the sound of running water in the kitchen. The girl's grandmother was washing the dishes, having shoved her granddaughter out and giving her that _look_ that said exactly what was on her mind.

_Get out of my kitchen._

With a full head of hair on the checkered cushion, a restless Kenai Talamantes lets her eyes close shut, thumb fiddling with the ring on her pointer. A coping habit of hers. See, Kenai has always been that type of kid who enjoyed trivial things at that age, things like routine and stability. Take school for example. Seating charts were her favorite part of the beginning of every school year from seventh grade to sophomore year off the reservation.

Off the reservation? What's a reservation? Y'know? The place where all the Native Americans can frolic and play, even if it's a limited privilege for certain people living there. Ahem, her family. It's the one in Oregon. Table Rock Reservation. Don't ask her why it's called that. Let's save that for later. Anyways!

Given that she's a kid from the Native circle, the children that have gone to school together since their graduation from diapers and pacifiers had taken one look at her. One look. That's all it took for those pieces of chicken droppings to think that she was a weirdo. A weirdo! And hey, maybe she is a weirdo, but in a good way. They certainly didn't see it that way. No one talked to her. The nice kids who attempted to scurried away when one of the mean popular kids glanced their direction. That was that. No one sat next to her unless it was enforced by the teacher or if it was for a project. Forever alone.

Now, the story with her family. That's a doozy. 

It all started with her great grandmother, a pure Native woman. She was pure in blood, but a majority of the residents in Table Rock thought her rebellious ways were adulterated. She was always sneaking off and going to town to flirt with all the small-town boys until she found the one that got her belly heavy and full in nine months. You would've thought that she'd get kicked off the reservation, but her parents were respected council members and it was a bonus factor when the baby's father (a light-skinned Filipino) said his words of peace, promising that he'd come back to take care of his wife and child once he got back from his job out at sea as a fisherman. 

That child grew up with only a mother after discovering that the boat had sunk when lightning struck the vessel. The mother named her Tilda Pikewood Rojas. Despite the rest of the residents' prayers for a good-natured young lady, the apple never falls far from the tree. With a contrastingly light complexion, Tilda took the stares of those on the reservation and she played it to her advantage, often seen playing petty pranks on the rest of the children who'd throw rocks at her when her mother wasn't looking. She walked with her chin up and glared at the older members who would criticize her for her behavior when another child was doing the _exact_ same petty thing in front of them. The girl would smirk when she'd say something appalling, chalking up the adult's scandalous look from seeing her face, reminding them of their premonitions - of a spirit haunting them. Needless to say, by the time the girl crossed the threshold of womanhood she had milked the heck out of that story and ended up having half the Natives run away from her when she'd appear.

It wasn't like her actions were unwarranted. The council members had agreed that if Tilda and her mother were to remain at the reservation, the child would have to forgo the culture that all Native children should be taught. They believe that their culture is sacred, so sacred that they wouldn't let this innocent girl partake in it. Plus, they didn't even bother to hide their reasons. When the children used it as ammo the council would leave them be and once Tilda fired back well, you could guess which side they took. 

Then came Edgar, another Filipino. It's funny how history repeats itself. This time, however, Edgar stayed and took care of the mother and both their daughters. They lived happily and most importantly _together_. But an altercation had occurred and it ended with Edgar having to leave. 

Kenai doesn't know much about what happened after that. It's a sore subject, it doesn't take a genius to know. So she doesn't ask, but it doesn't take away the fact that she's curious about what happened on that dry little rock decades ago.

She guesses it's her mom's and dad's turn now. For some strange reason, they had been adamant about sending her and her younger sibling to Ohio. It's not like she didn't expect it to happen what with their parents talking and thinking that both of them were fast asleep. But she didn't expect it to be so soon. Then again, that incident with Samuel Miller did put her whole family on the edge. But then _again_ , they should have flown together, not separately. It just doesn't make sense, they're always together. That's what's making her tick. She hates this. The unknown. She wants to know why. 

Groaning, she lifts a hand to _that_ spot on her skull. Her eye twitches instinctively, hearing chaotic yells and the distinctive sound of a bat clinking against cement. Then she hears sirens ringing in the distance and all too soon red and blue lights flash behind her eyes.

_Thud._

Jolting at the sudden appearance, her eyes shoot open. Echo's cheeky grin is the first thing that she sees. 

"Nice job. Get all the dust bunnies under the couch while you're at it." The younger girl's foot juts out from under her crossed legs to pat her sister's stomach, the sight of her mismatched socks causing the older girl to laugh. 

Kenai plucks her sister's ankle from the air and chucks it away, earning herself an indignant _squeak_ when another body hits the floor. "Not my job, goober. I mop, you sweep. That was the deal."

Peeling herself off the floor, she positions the pillow back into its original place before ambling toward a painting near the box television. Pride swells deep within her chest when she realizes that her mom's every-other-day lessons have paid off. Next to her, Echo tilts her head, mouth hanging open. "What's it called?" 

She rolls her eyes. "It's called close your mouth before a fly lands in there." She ignores the small pain in her side after the shorter girl elbows her, calling her _rude_. Her eyes sweep across the artwork as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. A dark-haired woman sat, perched on a chair with her old fashioned dress cascading down the length of her legs; she was facing away from the man as her arm lent on the balcony. The man, on the other hand, wore traditional white, his back facing the audience, seemingly weighed down by the strain on his mind as he stared outside, all alone with his musings. They weren't facing each other, brooding in their miserable way. Sulking, you'd say. " _Tampuhan_." That was the name of the painting. It's only then that she realizes that the answer wasn't even heard and that the questioner has completely disappeared from her side.

Typical.

"Marunong ka?" _You know how?_

She swivels around, eyes flitting over to what's across the room where the replica of Juan Luna's painting resides and to what Echo seemed to have gained interest with. Kenai's eyes crinkle with amusement, finding that - yes - what a cliche indeed. It was like a Filipino's wet dream. A wooden piano. The bench already had leather cushions, but their grandmother insisted that there should be a blanket for more comfort. The piano that's never played, but treated with care. It's just there, but the family only ever goes there out of curiosity or boredom, thinking that they could bust out a jam out of nowhere.

"Marunong? Lasing ka ba?" _Do I know how? Are you drunk?_ Kenai only ever went there for peace of mind back when she was around five or six, interested in the sounds after she'd press the keys, attempting to find a rhythm. "Bakit?" _Why?_ "You wanna show off?"

The tan girl smiles, remembering full well that Echo used to play _A-Tisket, A-Tasket_ when they were much younger. Nonstop. She used to play it on a baby piano and she'd play that thing right when Kenai was on the edge of falling asleep so that she could wake her up. Cheeky little shit.

"I haven't played in a long time. Nakalimutan ko lahat." _I forgot everything._

"'Buti nandito tayo. Pwede ka mag practice kahit kaylan mo gusto." _Good thing we're here. You can practice whenever you want._ Kenai tells her, encouraging it. Hobbies are a great distraction. She straddles the bench, facing her sister, studying the way Echo hesitates. The older one turns her head the other way, a small smile grazing her mouth, having an inkling as to why Echo wasn’t playing. From the corner of her eye, she watches her sister move, brushing her fingers on the keys. 

"Kenai. Nene."

They both whirled around to the source of the voice. Nanay Tilda stands at the doorway with her perfect hair and all, not a single strip of gray hair to be seen, but there were laugh lines that did no justice to how much the matriarch of the household loved to laugh.

"Yes, Graham?" The eldest replies, eyes sparkling and a grin in place. Damn, has it been that long since they've seen each other?

The woman steps forward, eyes drifting down to their feet. They settle on Echo's and her smile drops into a frown.

Kenai's brows scrunch together, following her gaze. She winces when she notices the flats that are still on her dear young sister's feet. Gulping, she quickly opens her mouth, hoping to get out of this talk before she becomes a witness, "Nanay, pwede po ba ako lumabas?" _Can I go out, please?_ "Gusto ko kasi maglakad-lakad." _I want to go for a walk._

"I _so_ hate you right now." Echo mumbles under her breath, glaring at her older sister which has the spectacled girl shrugging. 

There's a painful pause at the moment where Kenai seriously doubts she'll be going out at all. But then, "Hayo. Mag-ingat ka lang." _Go ahead. Just be careful._

Kenai jumps from her seat with a yip, knocking Echo's shoulder obnoxiously who tries to push her back (failing) before bolting over to her grandmother to give her a tight hug. "Okay! Madali lang ako!" _I'll be quick!_ She jogs over to the shoe rack, only bothering to shove her feet in as she pulls her sneakers up by the notch. Screw that, bye now. She waves a final goodbye and then much more ecstatically when her eyes connect with Echo's behind her glasses. The younger girl's only response is to hide her hand to her chest, flicking up her middle finger with the opposite energy. Kenai understands the way Echo narrows her eyes. And they're saying: _FUCK YOU!!!_

Snorting to herself, Kenai shuts the door and locks it. With her hand still on the knob, she presses her shoulder into the door five times, making sure that it isn't going to open. When that's done she applies pressure on the doorknob, turning it harshly until her fingers whiten. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. That's enough persuasion for the eldest Talamantes child before she jumps down the stairs, entirely skipping the four steps with the gracefulness of a natural dancer.

_Hit the road Jack and don't you come back_

_No more, no more, no more, no more_

Kenai has a bounce in her step as she sings the tune under her breath, snapping her fingers with liberating gusto and her head shaking from side to side before she spins on her feet in a full three-sixty. 

* * *

The spectacled teen didn't go _that_ far. She's a walker. It's become her thing ever since she began going to that school outside the rez. Thirty minutes back and forth. Maybe forty tops if it was snowing. Now, to the situation at hand. From her own certainty, she was definitely in Lima Heights what with the massive houses and luscious yards. 

The sign outside also said so.

About ten minutes into the neighborhood she comes across an empty playground. The keyword being _empty_. There she takes a seat on a bench near the extensive yellow slide and is still thinking about how empty it is. Where the hell was everyone? If she were back in Oregon a place like that would have been crowded, but who was _she_ to complain? Her?! The biggest introverted homebody in the family! She'd rather stay indoors and lock herself in her room for hours, perhaps even days.

Kenai stares up into the sky, the dawning sun putting her in a trance. Who was she kidding? This move was a godsend as if whoever the hell she prayed to listened to her improvised (pathetic) begging, including all the snot and boogers that she managed to gather in the entirety of her attendance at Millard Fillmore High School. Crap school. And much crappier students. So you ask, why was she so thankful?

Well, for one, she can have a fresh start and hopefully, the kids at her new school aren't as pea-brained as those idiots who didn't even give her a chance. No one would know her, but her sister would have her back and she'd have her sister's back. She snorts. Count on her to do this, but don't count on her to have your back when it comes to the family. They're a disorderly bunch, so there's no way in Satan's ass is she about to dip her toes into that boiling pond. Secondly, was there a second reason? Right! She's an intersex young woman. With a secret like that, you can imagine how everything went when the entire school found out. You can imagine the cruelty, you can imagine all those names.

Her hand digs through her silky tresses, tenderly stroking the left side of her skull. She clenches her eyes together, scrunching them tightly when she recalls the impact that plays over and over in her head. 

Brown eyes reappear when a particular noise drags her out of her daze. Cautiously, she stands. She eyes the cement, doubt flooding her senses or feasibly, paranoia because of how she just imagined the rough layer forming into a sheet of wooden floorboards, the ones that creak under physical force. Thanks to all those horror movies that she's been watching. Peeking out from behind the bright slide, the nervousness that takes shelter in the strings of her chest pitches downward, into the depths of her stomach. 

A blonde girl sits across the other side of the playground under a metal bridge where a tiny backless bench connects to two red pillars. 

An all-black shoe steps back, retreating and definitely not brave enough to go over there. Kenai catches her train of thought, pinching the back of it before it goes any further. To what? Offer comfort? To a stranger no less?

Ma would be disappointed if she found that she talked to a stranger. But it's a girl around her age? _So?! Girl, boy, old, young. I don't care! A stranger is a stranger! Get away from her!_ A shiver trails up her spine. The reaction is uncannily spot-on.

BUT!

If it were dad then he'd say to go for it. _Come on! You need a girlfriend. When you were growing up I was scared about you getting a girl pregnant, but then that went away. Now, I'm scared you're going to turn into a cat lady! Vámonos mija!!!_

The blonde sniffles again. Kenai can't bring herself to turn around and to leave her alone. In her head, she'd imagine scenarios like this as a plan y'know! So that when the moment comes it doesn't leave her looking like a fish out of water. She planned for it and everything! Still! Here she was, head up her ass and still comfortably uncomfortable. 

Kenai rolls her shoulders back feeling the tiny cricks in the upper part of her back. Her hand reaches into the pocket of her jeans, searching for the thing - _aha! Found it!_ It was mostly for preparation. So she can drop it and run away, no matter how stupid she looks doing it. Brushing around the metal barrier, she waits nearby, thinking of a way to announce her presence. Which she now deems is a horrible idea because only does she realize her resemblance to a freaky masked man; she seems like Jason Voorhees, all creepy and hulking and alarmingly silent. Licking her lips, the fleshy edges of her mouth open up, and a second later she regrets it, sucking in some dirt particle that has her coughing and possibly dying! GOD! Christ, now her eyes are watering. She leans her weight on the pillar, her fist pounding into her chest. Why?! In front of a girl too? Life likes playing around with her. Jesus has jokes! What a blessing! 

The spectacled girl almost jumps when a warm hand touches her back, patting her as if her dumbass didn't just waltz up to her just so she can start dying of all the mucky airborne shit floating in the atmosphere. What a way to go. 

Sniffle. "Are you alright?" The blonde asks once the ugly hacking has subsided.

Kenai laughs. "I came here to see if _you_ were alright." Lifting her gaze, she gulps and the breath in her lungs feels like it's blocked. _Oh, wow._ "Here." She manages to say, but it comes out as a low whisper as she offers her turquoise handkerchief. She once read that eye contact was a sign of respect. Her eyes drift downward. The multiracial girl can't help it, she wants to respect her, but _WHOA_. There's this thing about her eyes that are so intense and profoundly disarming. _I feel so naked!_ She feels those hazel eyes burning into the side of her head and she proceeds to curl in on herself, to look smaller despite being taller than the other girl. Her lips are drying up and she licks them again. Damn her mouth. Chappy Jaws.

They're at a standstill. And she hates it and loves it at the same time. The warmth in her ears are burning, stretching and descending towards the collar of her T-shirt. The space between them was way too small, and the hand on her back was unmoving. It was too friendly that it should bother her, but it doesn't. Usually, she'd be stepping away at least an arm's length, but here they were. Close. Packed in. So _intimate_ that they were quite literally breathing in the same expanse of air. Behind black-rimmed glasses, a set of dark brown eyes take their time to trail their way up a white dress that hid underneath a conservative yellow cardigan. Her head tilts to the side when the cross shines for a moment as if winking at her. Finally, she works her way up the slopes of the blonde's neck. Pale. Slender. Then the chin. Lips. Nose. _Eyes_. 

"Here." She repeats herself, her white-knuckled grip on the hanky relaxing before she delicately stows the fabric in the hazel-eyed girl's upturned palm, a tingle inching up, starting from the pads of her fingers, to the inner part of her wrist, to her forearm (goosebumps bursting and small hairs shooting upward), to her bicep, to her shoulder, to the nape of her neck, then to her ears which have already been prickling with the warmth that the blonde had caused to begin with.

"I really hope that you feel better."

Those puffy hazel eyes blink back, going from the hanky to the antsy girl whose glasses have slid low on her nose. The blonde lifts a hand, a delicate finger sticking out. It closes the distance. To where she has no clue. The finger is cozy against the bridge of Kenai's nose, attentive to the way that she pushes up the girl's visionary instrument.

"Thank you." The passage of the spectacled girl's throat is taut and rigid. And like that, she's gone. Her body moving fast, so embarrassed and propelled by a conviction for tranquility. A purpose to slow down her racing heart and to alleviate the ache in her shoulders from cowering in the company of a beautiful girl.

Hazel eyes gape at the retreating form of the girl, so fast and hasty to escape. _Idiot! She probably thinks I'm projecting my sapphic penchants onto her!_ What has gotten into her?! She probably shouldn't have snuck that bottle of wine into her room. Although she's not at all surprised, her decisions _have_ been causing her tremendous headaches lately. The blonde plops back down, fingers digging into her forehead, peeved and feeling warmth rush into her head. 

"I didn't even get to say thank you."

Delicate fingers smooth over the turquoise fabric.

"I didn't even get her name."  
  


_Hic!_

The blonde’s hand shoots up to cover her mouth. Oh yeah. She should _not_ have drank before going there.


	2. Best of My Sanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:
> 
> 100 Years by Five for Fighting 
> 
> Dust in the Wind by Kansas

_"Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same."_

_\- Francesca Reighler_

* * *

Waking in the middle of the night was not a vital part of Kenai's routine. However, as her eyes shoot open, they squint through the darkness of her bedroom save for the natural light in between the shadows that crawl over the walls. Obscure vision zones to the side of her bed where she had just dreamt of something dreadful, so acutely real that she snatches her hand from where it hangs outside the margins of her mattress and back to the safety of her lumpy warm blanket; with alarm setting itself through the whole of her skull's organ, her frantic hand blindly rummages through the waves of her sheets, searching for August - her stuffed bunny whose ears and feet are quite too big in comparison to his face.

Her hand comes in contact with a ball that's much softer than cotton and much bigger than a golf ball. Relief settles into the ridges of her chest as she clutches onto August's tail, pressing him into her torso and ducking into the protection of her covers; Kenai goes so far as to tuck her legs in and to sink under, covering her head and pulling the sheet until it's sticking to the side of her face.

Locked down.

No one gets in.

No one gets out.

Kenai shuts her eyes, her grip trembling against August. For a moment, she considers running to her grandmother's room or maybe jumping into Echo's bed to play off how scared she is.

The image that she sees in her dream pops up again like a cruel glitching joke and she pictures that _thing_ seizing her hand as she had been asleep as its needle-like teeth reveal themselves beyond its stretched out, blackened lips that seemed to curve passed its eyes. The eyes were petrifying alabaster and cloudy, yet the way it observed her in the dream, unseeing but it was enough to make her blood run colder than a Yeti's nesting grounds. 

Shaking, she flicks her temple, hoping and invoking for an invisible barrier to enclose around her so that it could suck out every bitter thing that she had just seen, to have no recollection of it by the time morning arises and by the time the moon appears on the other side of the world.

"Please protect me, August."

The child within the young teenager calls out, vulnerable and unfortified from those who prey, from those who live off of the dispatching of innocence, from those who take and take until there's no more for exploitation. 

* * *

An alarm shrieks, high pitch, and rapidity wailing into the confines of the room. A deadly combination that yanks Kenai from her slumber. " _Fuck off_." With an unintentional slap to her face, she lugs it over her cheek before rolling onto her side to smack the digital clock on her nightstand that makes it pop up like a meerkat. 

Blinking the strain from her eyes, she peers at the clock which has her shooting out of the bed. It was five-thirty! She rushes into the bathroom with her headband and towel, mentally crossing her fingers, hoping that Echo isn't awake yet to monopolize the space. The hallway was still dark except for the dim blue morning that usually welcomes her at that time. She crosses the threshold but digs her back into the deep line of the door's casing when she notices a figure at the end of it. Her eyes open and shut rapidly, breathing heavily through her nose when there's nothing there. _Needle teeth...?_

She knocks at her temple with her middle knuckles. "Am I going insane?" Cracking her neck she strides to the bathroom with hurried vigor in case something from the empty hall _does_ respond. After the light is on and the door clicks she turns the lock, holding it tightly for ten counts before she resumes her morning schedule. Flipping the sink open, she narrows her eyes into slits when greeting the mirror.

_Don't do anything weird._

By the time six o'clock rolls in the shine of the sun is seeping through the hall and the older one is strolling past Echo's door with a brush, streaking along the twists that sleeping had left in her almost black tresses. Kenai's socked feet pad across the carpeted floor and she stands next to the bed where the only body part that peeks out is a milky calf. Sighing, she puts her hair into a ponytail, but most of her focus is drawn to the side of the bed. Fuck, she still remembers the dream. _Whatever_. The furrow in her brows tells the opposite story as she uses the end of her hairbrush to tap her sister.

"Ey, despierta." _Hey, wake up._

The multiracial girl presses her lips together before disposing the brush into the pocket of her straight jeans. 

Kenai walks over the farthest side of the room and turns, "Ey, despierta." Then waits. Nothing. Shrugging, she lowers her body onto her haunches, satisfied when her bones pop. Now in an upright position, she kicks both her legs out, knees popping loudly. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she prepares herself. She moves -

"I'm awake! Don't try that, cabrona!"

Snorting into the back of her hand, Kenai gets one more hooyah when she kicks the exposed leg and laughs when Echo does her best to throw a pillow at her on her way out, but the older sibling dodges the attempt, catching the projectile and flinging it back with much more success.

Behind the now closed door, the spectacled one faintly hears, "Huy! Bumalik ka rito! Bubugbugin kitang puta ka!" _Hey! Come back here! I'll beat you up, you bitch!_

* * *

At around seven-fifteen Echo descends the stairs and strolls into the kitchen, eyeing their grandmother's back before her hand hits the backside of her sister's head, catching the upper part of her ear. Kenai chokes down her laugh and instead chews her last serving of cereal, hiding her smile behind her spoon while her other hand rubs the temporary sting.

" _Ass_." Echo whispers.

" _Dipshit_."

Tilda hands her youngest a spoon, amusement on her lips and a knowing twinkle on the surface of her eyes. She was old, but she does have the best tools in the business - her _ears_. 

"Kamusta ang tulog mo?" _How was your sleep?_

"Okay lang. Until _someone_ woke me up." _It was okay._ The milky skinned girl stabs an aggressive finger in her sister's direction before her spoon sounds against the curve of her bowl, shoving a glop of yogurt into her mouth.

Kenai's shoulders shake as she grins at her sibling, "If I didn't you'd still be in bed at this time." She stands, walking behind the girl slowly, smirking when Echo gets fidgety, head darting around to see what she's about to do. She continues her journey to the sink, quickly getting to work on cleaning the dishes.

Graham chortles, gathering some rice and dispensing the cluster onto her plate. "Do you two want me to drop you off at school?"

The suggestion makes the siblings pause, sharing a look. Because as far as they knew, Grandma Tilda didn't have a driver's license, nor did she know how to drive which would be the main reason why she doesn't have a license in the first place. And Kenai is positive their grandmother cannot drive because she remembers when her entire family had come to visit Graham, they even rented a van so that the matriarch could practice. Tatay Edgar (who's in the Navy right now) was in the passenger seat and all of them were crammed like sardines in the back, not to mention that it was sweltering that day, you can imagine the funkiness in the back. Anyhow, they were in an empty parking lot away from other civilians, but Kenai remembers the day so clearly. Graham had driven the van up a curb and with her Ma and Echo being so dramatic they shrieked and gasped while she stared at her father with an incredulous look that he swears she inherited from him. 

Grandma Tilda never tried driving again after that.

"You don't have a car though." Echo answers for them, eyes wide and anxious, suddenly wondering to herself if their grandmother happened to steal a car as a side hustle, but with the sheer luck and capability of a shit driver. 

The matriarch raises a brow. "Taxi."

"Nah, it's fine." Kenai pushes her glasses up after drying her hands with the rag that hangs on the oven. "We'll just walk to school." 

"Yeah! Save money and save the planet from... pollution." At the questioning looks that they give Echo, the younger girl flushes red. "I don't know. Something from school and carbon dioxide. Plus, Key needs the exercise." After the remark Echo darts over to her grandmother's side, pecking her on the cheek before running to the living room to avoid Kenai's eyes, seething into the side of her face. "See ya later, Gran!"

Rolling her eyes, she follows Echo's actions. "If I come back without her would you get mad?"

Tilda shakes her head with exasperation. _Kids_. "Go before she trips over something," she pats her panganay's shoulder before watching them rush out the door with Echo behind her sister, hands on her backpack, jostling the owner back and forth.

* * *

When they get within reach of the school, Kenai grimaces looking at Echo's choice of clothes. 

"Oh my god! What is it this time?"

The breeze could be felt against Kenai's skin even as she wears a dark plaid long-sleeved shirt. Cool air sweeps upward through her sleeves, tickling the tiny hairs on her forearms. She had picked it out of self-consciousness along with the black T-shirt underneath in case it got hot because believe her when she says that the small stretch marks that dent the backs of her shoulders aren't the prettiest thing to look at. Imagine if it were a tank top, that would be humiliating. 

Kenai sees many red letterman jackets and cheerleading uniforms, a swarm of them at the school entrance. Then she looks at herself, dark clothing to blend in. Then she stands back to look at her sister. Grimace.

"Spit it out."

"I told you not to wear anything bright." The frown is almost permanent now as she takes in the light pink cardigan, the white shirt, the white _pants!_ "How are you even hiding your _thing_ in there?"

"Extra tight underwear, duh! Loosen up, sister. Fillmore isn't like this place."

The response that follows almost makes Echo laugh because _shit_ , she wants to take a picture of Kenai's face _so_ bad. Kenai looks at her, so scandalized. "You - _Christ_. Look, we haven't even been inside for one second. We don't know how this school _works_. We don't know what the people here are _like_. So please, don't tell me to loosen up when both of us were practically getting bullied every single day."

"Kenai." Echo stares at her sister, watching her sister slowly unraveling and school hasn't even _begun_ yet. She needs to chill the fuck out. "I know that what happened last year wasn't the best experience, but you need to calm down. I was there. I experienced the same shit... except for that Miller part, I admit." She can't help but look at the side of Kenai's head. The spectacled girl notices, eyes drifting away with unease. "But you? You're already judging people, people that you haven't even talked to. Give them a _chance_."

Kenai groans, pushing her glasses up her face.

"Fine."

"Can we go now?"

"Yes."

Echo gets a grip on the older sibling's wrist, pulling the girl towards the entrance and ignoring the way her shoulders tense when a few jocks and cheerleaders stare at them on their way in through the door.

If they had been there a little earlier they would have heard a certain person in a wheelchair shriek, but instead, the boy lays in the heap of garbage giving up on asking for help and instead pulls out his phone to call Tina for help.

* * *

As Echo waits outside the restroom, Kenai pulls the door open. At one of the sinks stood a petite brunette, tinkering with her hair and a can of hairspray at her side. The spectacled girl doesn't pay the girl much more attention, finding herself intruding just by looking. She notices that two stalls are closed and mentally she's groaning. _Great, she has to sit to pee._ Briskly, her feet bring her into a stall and she shuts it quietly, sitting her bag next to the tiled wall.

As she does her business she hears humming and Kenai listens carefully to the girl at the sink, to see if she can decipher what song was playing in her head. She comes up blank until the girl starts singing softly.

_Fifteen there's still time for you_

_Time to buy, time to lose yourself_

Flushing the toilet, Kenai fixes herself, locking her belt into place before shouldering her pack and walking out the stall. To her surprise, the girl keeps singing, confident in herself and she should be, the confidence backs up her talent. Kenai is slow in the way that she lathers her hands, savoring the sound of the girl's voice. She doesn't notice the way that her lip is curling up into a smile.

_With a morning star_

_Fifteen I'm all right with you_

_Fifteen, there's never a wish better than this_

The song is clear in her head. She knows the pause and exactly how long it is. She knows the next words and she knows it's because of how her sister had sung it all the way from Oregon to Ohio unapologetically, and without her permission, her lips are already moving:

_When you only got a hundred years to live_

Eyes wide behind glasses, the girl's head shoots upward, but instead of a glare, the girl with the hairspray beams at her from ear to ear. Right off the bat, Kenai finds the girl very pretty and cute, especially her nose. The spectacled girl catches her own thoughts telling her that she wants to boop the tip of it. Kenai smiles for a quick second, a tingle running up the side of her neck before she turns back to her hands when the sound of toilets flushing knocks her back into reality.

Shoes tap against the tiled floor and from the corner of her eye she sees a red uniform. Her hands freeze under the rush of water. _Oh fuck._ Hurriedly, she walks over to the paper towel dispenser. Her hand reaches for the door when a different voice stops her. 

"Where do you think you're going?" The question was asked with a sickeningly sweet tone, too over the top and definitely a bad sign.

Reluctantly, the girl turns, but her hand still reaches for the door, palming it and it was cool under her touch, calming her racing heart a bit. The question belonged to the Latina and despite the added sweetener in her voice, the glare that was zoned in on her was blazing. Gulp. A shiver crawls up her spine, neither comfortable or uncomfortable. Just there.

She glances over a tan shoulder only for her eyes to come in contact with hazel.

These eyes are wide, yet intrigued. The blonde raises a perfectly sculpted brow that brings heat to Kenai's ears. But then she notices the high pony. The uniform. The red uniform. She gulps again, licking her lips with discomfort. She's a cheerleader? She's a cheerleader?! A memory from yesterday flashes into her mind and she almost facepalms because now... oh dear. Is she hyperventilating? 

Her eyes land on the petite brunette who has herself pressed against the sink, acting as a midpoint for the pecking order with Kenai at the bottom, a small little pawn. The short girl stares back at her with worry.

"You may go." The blonde says in an almost regal way like some sort of queen. And Kenai would believe it, so without another word, she swivels around, pushing the door with might, grabbing her sister and taking her as far away as she can from the bathroom. 

"What the hell happened?" Echo is concerned now, letting her distraught sister pull her away.

"Nothing." 

Echo asks a normal-looking student where the principal's office is and her eyes widen when the girl snaps at her. "Down the hall!" Before Echo can even open her mouth to say something bitchy Kenai's grip on her is already being used. Kenai cautiously leads them into the office, meekly greeting the Pakistani man who forgets his work when they walk in. 

"Good morning," Kenai pauses, squinting at the nameplate on the desk. "Principal Figgins."

"Ah the siblings, I was expecting you two. Tal- ...Tala-"

"Talamantes." Echo supplies, tired of waiting.

"Right." The man awkwardly smiles before gesturing towards the seats as he stands, going over to his filing cabinet. 

The sisters slowly sit down, the older one on the edge while the younger one was the epitome of calm and collected. Together they watch the principal bring over five textbooks. Each. He unintentionally slams them down onto the desk, the noise of it very displeasing. The corner of Kenai's lip twitches into a tiny frown. She could already feel the weight of them in her backpack and the amount of homework she'll get for her second round of high school. The man takes his seat once again, two sheets of paper in his hand. He breaks down what they need to know before he hands them their respective schedules, laughing to himself when the younger one pulls a look of disgust. He sees them out, watching them go down the hall before they turn a corner. He crosses his fingers, pinning his hope on their good behavior.

* * *

After the siblings part (with Kenai hanging onto her sister for more than ten seconds), they each go to their class. Kenai's first class was Spanish I. The funny thing is that last year she was in Spanish II. Maybe it was the system or something, but all she knows is that the class guarantees her an A-plus. Well, unless there were many oral presentations then she's undeniably screwed.

She spares the teacher's desk a glance and it's empty. This puts a frown on her face. There goes her routine. Now she has to find an open seat, yet there weren't any more tables that were vacant of people. Great, she has to ask and initiate a conversation. She searches with haste, tensing when the students begin staring at her for standing there at the door. She spies a well-dressed boy. Alone and quiet, just the way she likes it. It was the safest option. That or a red letterman. Hell no. The seat was in the back corner of the room near the windows. A true blessing.

"Excuse me." She might've said that a little too low for him to hear, but to her surprise, she grabs his attention. "Would it be all right if I sit here?"

"Sure." He replies, voice a bit high pitched. "Go ahead."

Kenai slides into the maroon chair, opening her binder to fill in the time, but completely at a loss about what to do with herself. Before she decides to close it a caucasian man with short curly hair walks in. Tilting her head, she glances at her watch. He's ten minutes late. That particular detail makes her face scrunch up, thinking about how she's never had a teacher that was late to school. He was not setting a good example.

"Ugh. He really needs to get new clothes." The boy beside her remarks, his own pale face scrunching up as he rolls his bluish-green eyes, but it's his cheeks that interest her. She wants to pinch them really badly. 

But she stares at him, puzzled. She was thankful that he started a conversation? Was it an invitation to a conversation? Or... was he talking to himself? Breaking it down to the former, she turns her attention to the instructor, sweater vest and all. It was just clothes. She didn't see any problem with it. Though, she doesn't voice out her thoughts. It's the first day, she doesn't want to get on this guy's bad side. So she hums, seemingly agreeing, but not exactly. 

"Are you new?" The boy whispers, folding his leg over the other. He observes her, trying to recall if he's ever seen her before. Not at all. He remembers faces. This face was brand new. "You are, aren't you?"

Kenai stumbles on her words. Did he just answer his own question? "It's that obvious, huh?"

"If you weren't new then you wouldn't be sitting next to me."

"Why?" Dark brows scrunching together. Kenai doesn't quite know how to respond to that. Was he a murderer or something? "Is there something wrong with you?" The question is out of her mouth before she can even fix it midsentence. See? This is why she should be homeschooled. Trust her mouth to blurt out random shit. Oh God, she's probably on his hit list now. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound so-"

The other teen laughs to himself, watching the way his seat mate’s face morphed into several emotions in the span of seconds. Worry. Regret. Scared. Incredulous. "You're good. You're good. Breathe." He encourages by patting her arm. "That was hilarious. Refreshing even."

"Hi, um." The girl juts out a hand, avoiding eye contact with him. "Kenai Talamantes."

Eyeing her hand for a second, the boy takes it, then hiding his wince when the girl's grip became extra firm until it softened, probably realizing he wasn't the type of person to shake hands. 

"Kurt Hummel." As payback and maybe as an eensy-weensy test on their compatibility, he doesn't let go of her hand when she goes to pull away which makes her eyes widen comically. "Your hands are _way_ too rough." That's when he begins pulling away. Now. It's his turn to be shocked.

"Well, _you_ need to work on your grip."

Kurt takes one dry look at the evil smirk on Kenai's lips before his teeth show up because of his own cheesy smile. "You're definitely my favorite person right now."

"That makes two of us."

Outside the classroom, Kenai checks her schedule for the tenth time, narrowing her eyes unblinkingly in case her mind is playing tricks on her. A hand reaches out to knock her shoulder. She looks behind her and her frown disappears when she finds Kurt. "Oh, _hey_. It's the guy who doesn't know what an adjective is."

"Shut up. You know for a girl who told me that she was extremely introverted you sure know a thing or two about yapping."

"I talk to myself sometimes. I've been holding it in." Kenai tells him, knocking her head for good measure. Deciding to leave it at that she playfully nudges him with her elbow before bidding him goodbye.

She turns another corner, completely missing how her new friend gets drenched with this mysterious purple slush. Despite the missed occurrences, Kenai steps into her next class after picking up her textbook from her locker. She's known for being prepared all the time in these types of situations. 

She dreads the period, finding herself alone with the exception of Ms. Berkley from what the name on the whiteboard says. The woman isn't facing her direction, her back towards her and attention on writing on the board. Thankful for not receiving attention, she slips her way to the very back and plops down on a black stool.

According to her routine, she moves her textbook all the way to the far corner of the science table, making sure that its corners align with the corner of the table. She pats her left pocket, feeling for three utensils. A pencil. Two pens. Black and blue. In her right pocket was her ID and her phone. On her arms, she checks for her hair tie on her left wrist and on her right a black wristwatch and a silver ring on the pointer.

The chair beside her squeaks and Kenai stops dead in her tracks, eyes stuck on the shine of her watch's face.

"Hi!"

Dark brown eyes behind glasses blink when they meet the bluest pair of eyes she has seen in her entire life. The shock wears off when she notes the cheerleading uniform and an uncommon smile. Uncommon because of how every other girl in a red skirt that she had seen could use an attitude makeover. "Hi."

"I'm Brittany!" The tall, blue-eyed blonde catches the tiny movement around the tan girl's shoulders: Stiff. So in a calmer tone, she tries again, very much curious. "What's your name?"

"Kenai."

"Kenai?" Brittany pauses, staring at her with unbridled probing. "Where have I heard that before? I keep thinking of a bear for some reason."

The spectacled girl snorts, smoothing her glasses up her face, having a definite idea where she heard the name from. When she tells people her name that's usually the first thing they say. "Have you ever seen Brother Bear?"

Blue seems to brighten even more. "Do you have Koda nearby?!" The way the taller girl asks has the multiracial teen feeling bubbly, her presence so infectious with positivity. 

Laughing to herself, she ducks her head in, gesturing for Brittany to come closer. "My sister hates being called that. If you're up for it you should come and find me just to twist her sanity a bit."

Giggling, the blonde gets just a bit closer. Kenai's personal space? Her bubble? That doesn't exist right now. She forgot about that thing _minutes_ ago. "Does that mean I can be Nita?"

Perplexed, Kenai nods along, not really understanding what that means. It's only later when the blonde smiles - full teeth and pink lips on display - for about the twentieth time at her before leaving for the next class that she gets a full grasp of what the cheerleader meant. Nita was Kenai's childhood friend in the movie. At the end of the movie, they had gotten married. Kenai, the female Kenai that is, flushes when she thinks about it further before she scolds herself. She probably didn't mean anything by it.

By this time, Kenai finds herself sitting alone in McKinley's auditorium, exhausted. Kaput!

She had just gotten out of geometry, a class that she had shared with a particular person who probably doesn't need an introduction. He didn't need an intro after Kenai had heard conversations about him as she'd walk by. A creepy white kid with glasses and a bush of hair. Don't forget the microphone. That microphone has been shoved in her face more times than she can count and she _counts_. Jacob Ben Israel. She wanted to give the kid a chance, but patience isn't something that she thrives on. And considering how the kid was a freshman in a sophomore class, he was probably smart, but not smart enough to read social cues.

Bubble activated.

As for being alone, Echo had texted saying she found a friend and Kenai being who she was didn't accept her invitation to join them for lunch. That goober should have a social life without her lurking over her shoulder, so here she was. Alone, kind of pathetic. And too anxious for the cafeteria. 

The spectacled girl bites into her liver spread sandwich and is midchew when the stage lights turn on all of a sudden and she jumps in her seat, expecting needle teeth to appear. A girl walks out. The girl with the hairspray.

She hums silently, remembering.

_When you only got a hundred years to live_

Now at center stage, the brunette stands, looking out into the audience. 

Kenai drops down to the floor, sandwich to her chest. As much as she liked how the other girl sang, she was not about to engage in awkward small talk. Grimacing, she thinks about the way she left the other girl with those cheerleaders - with lionesses. Mean and foul. That’s what they probably were. Something extraordinary will have to happen before she changes her mind, even if one of those carnivores included the girl who has her hanky. _Crap!_ It was a special hanky too! That was so out of her element, that was unlike her. Strangers don’t get shit from her. They get an awkward wave. That’s it. A foot’s length from her? Nope, too close. Move farther away. _Move._

But back to the brunette. That was awful of her to do, to leave her there and not even bothering to help. They were clearly planning something. That's what bullies apparently did now. Stakeouts in bathrooms. Very...dedicated? She just hopes she's wrong about the girl. Instead of being stuck in the room with those cheerleaders, she hopes that it was the other way around: They were stuck in there with _her_. 

_I close my eyes_

_Only for a moment and the moment's gone_

_All my dreams_

_Pass before my eyes with curiosity_

Kenai senses it in her bones and in the tiny hairs on her arms even with her plaid shirt covering them. She feels the goosebumps and she feels another shiver streak up the length of her spine as she peeks over the seat in front of her. This girl was going to be someone. She didn't know what. A singer? Every time that she's seen her (twice now) that's what she catches her doing. And she's practicing in an auditorium on the first day of school? Seems like it'd be something a devoted person would do. Kenai's eyes are glued onto the girl's small frame, eyes shining with something substantial. Awe. Admiration. The song finishes before Kenai was ready for it to be over.

She wants more.

She'll come back tomorrow.

* * *

After the eventful lunch period, Kenai drifts into English II, mind still on that little starlet.

She chooses a seat next to the window, tucking her pen between her fingers. A few minutes later her fingers start to ache, the after effects of carrying your books all day, so she places her knuckles onto the table and applies pressure. The spectacled girl savors the way all her bones give away, no longer feeling the itch to crack them.

Halfway through class, not that she noticed time passing by, movement catches her attention. Something scary, something red, something intimidating, something unshed. She studies the uniform. Then she studies the hair. Blonde. It was a type of hair color that she wasn't that much used to, most of the Caucasians at her old school were brown-headed or had dye in their hair. The cheerleader stood at the pencil sharpener and it seemed like the blonde favored wooden pencils, an old soul perhaps? It takes about six rotations before the end of the stick is sharp enough. The girl turns around and Kenai has half a mind to notice that she's staring and completely gobsmacked. 

The girl at the playground.

The blonde in her fierce attire feels the prickle on her skin and it has her chin turning to the left, some type of sixth sense she developed during her time in high school. And her own eyes mirror the ones behind glasses. She feels her mask go down before she knows it, feeling slightly guilty when the taller girl flinches, immediately looking down. She walks back to her desk and sits straight, unbending and statuelike until her eyes hawk in on a girl, the only other person who doesn't have a seatmate. In Quinn Fabray's mind, it would be oh so easy to just get up and sit down beside the girl. No one would ask questions about it, but shallow enough to start gossiping about it. About something so simple, yet there wasn't anything simple about the way they had met. Biting her lip thoughtfully, the cheerleader lifts her binder, the pads of her fingers settling over the turquoise cloth.

Kenai's last class really took the cake for the most stressful class she's ever had. Not because of work! NO!!! But because of the students.

Sorry, sorry.

Correction.

_A_ student. 

A paper ball is flung her way and her only reaction is to swat it behind her, mindful of the teacher who jumps at every sound no matter if its origin is from outside.

Santana Lopez.

Satan's literal asshat.

She figured the girl's name during roll call and the name makes reasonable sense. 

It only takes about five more minutes before hell cools down. A ginger-haired woman peeks her head in through the door and greets the teacher who nods, almost lost.

"Is there a student here that goes by the name Kenai?" 

Santana suddenly turns to her, tossing up a paper ball that's quadrupled in size. "Hope you like my care package, window face." 

Kenai's shoulders tense, right eye twitching. Something bad happened. That same tone and wink? She doesn't believe the act one bit. Getting up from her seat she walks over to the door with all her belongings and follows the adult out.

"Did something happen to my sister?" Kenai asks after they get to a second hallway. 

Emma takes a step back when the tan girl abruptly turns to her, stopping them. The sheer look of protectiveness has the counselor smiling in a sad and piteous way, not at all comforting the taller of the two. "There's been an accident that the school is famous for. A horrible reputation."

"I don't understand."

"Follow me." Emma leads her to the locker rooms that are used for gym class and for the school's sports activities. The smell that hits Kenai once she steps foot into the facility is good, _too_ good. 

"Why are we here?"

Emma smiles again, still sad, still doesn't answer the question. "She asked for you." The counselor turns to leave before the student's voice halts her.

"I want to say thank you, but I don't know your name," Kenai tells her, the honesty making the tips of her ears burn.

"Ms. Pillsbury." The ginger replies. "If either of you needs to talk to someone my door is always open."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Kenai carefully steps further into the locker room once Ms. Pillsbury takes her leave.

The warmth of the showers makes her sweat under her flannel. After the fourth stall, she falters.

"Echo."

The girl lifts her head from her huddled knees. The sight breaks her heart and anger flares. 

**_Santana Lopez_**.

She kneels in front of her younger sister, who's drenched from head to toe: cardigan no longer pink, but an ugly ball of red and blue; shirt no longer white and seethrough; pants pretty much in the same shape.

Echo had held in her tears from the moment the first slushie splashed into her face to getting brought into the locker room by Ms. Pillsbury. Looking up into her older sister's furious eyes she begins sobbing, breaking and wailing all at the same time. "I should've listened." Hot tears spill all over her face, trailing down her neck. She feels a shirt being moved over her shoulders before her sister embraces her, tightly and firm. Echo's sticky fingers grab onto forearms and she sobs, her body shaking as she's held. The only sounds around them are the waves that bounce back from the walls, playing like a broken record that makes her sob harder. Chest heavy. She couldn't even swallow her breath.

"I-I-"

Kenai shushes her, brushing Echo's syrupy hair and wiping away the tears even as more continue to dribble down. Instead, she pulls her closer, feeling Echo sag against her body in defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things changed.


	3. Red Dye No. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameal Lahote is now Camille Fairgrove because autocorrect is a little B and Lahote is a surname of Paul Lahote from Twilight, so NO on that bad idea from ages ago. 
> 
> This is not a reflection of what I think Native American people do it is just a plot of the story and I'm sorry if this offends anyone. And yes, while Table Rock rez was a real place the people that I'm depicting aren't a reflection of them. This is fake, fake, fake stuff. Don't kill me. 
> 
> Songs Used:
> 
> Ain't No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye  
> Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson  
> September by Earth, Wind & Fire  
> Soon by Barry Manilow from the Thumbelina Album

_"You have powers you never dreamed of. You can do things you never thought you could do. There are no limitations in what you can do except the limitations of your own mind."_

_\- Darwin P. Kingsley_

* * *

"Ma?"

Kenai looks at her, unresponsive.

It's her.

From the other side of the room, Echo stands at her sister's doorway, hair still wet from her forty-minute bath and the hand with the towel freezing immediately. Kenai watches her sister turn bug-eyed with realization before she whips through the room and leaps onto the bed with the agility of a kid in trouble and seizes the arm that holds the Blackberry.

"Please don't tell her."

"Sandali lang, Ma." _Hold on._ Kenai fixes her sibling with a pair of upset brows. Her hand covers the phone as she clenches her jaw, remembering so much from earlier that day and what had become of her sister with the help of Lopez's grand welcoming. Fucking asshole. "We _have_ to tell her."

Echo shakes her head vigorously, grip tightening as a few droplets of water patter over the other girl's arm. "No. Come on. Let me fix it." 

"No, Echo. What happened at school was just the beginning and I'm not going to let it happen again."

Uncovering the phone, Echo snatches it, gulping nervously when a glare settles onto her sister's face. The younger of the two shelters the phone with her palm, clutching it as if her life depended on it and Kenai cannot fathom why. 

A beat goes by. "Give me the goddamn thing," Kenai growls, pearly white teeth showing to which Echo feels a rock drop into her stomach, dismaying her firmness.

" _Please_." 

Kenai shakes her head, eyes softening. Her chest felt heavy like someone was suffocating her. What she saw in that locker room was a sight that she never wanted to see again. The way her sister cried and shook against her like a frail little leaf, a reflection of what they left behind at Oregon when _she_ was the one crying in her room and Echo had to strongarm her out of her blubbering and her frenzied movements of rocking back and forth (which did no help and reduced her into a chaotic mess of anxiety). Echo never experienced this type of shame before; Kenai had made sure the bullying wouldn't get this far back in the other state, but she had failed here. They were blindsided and it was something that irked her to the bone. What type of hell had they fallen into?

" _Please_." Echo's latch on her slackens and she falls forward, dropping into her lap and trembling against the older girl as her limbs find purchase elsewhere, desperately snaking around Kenai's waist. "Don't make them worry. Let _me_ handle it. Let me handle it for once."

The tan girl's mind screeches to a jerky halt as does her hand on Echo's back. Because what she's hearing is new. What did she mean by that? And when has Echo _ever_ begged her for anything of great urgency? She does recall a moment in time where Echo had cried for a bite of her leche flan, boogers and everything, but that situation wasn't of paramount importance.

This was.

She admits that both of them were too proud to ask the other for help, then again it ran in the family. A bunch of iron-willed Tallys. They were stubborn to a fault and it was annoying most of the time, but it did come in handy.

But the dynamic that the both of them had was weird as every other siblingship. Either the help was given wordlessly and willingly or help wasn't given at all. _Hmm_. Maybe a snarky motivational pep talk here and there and that was that. 

So with hesitance, she slides her phone out of Echo's hand which tenses for a second before letting go. "Ma." Putting the phone to her ear, she feels the younger one go still, breathing going silent. "Tatawagan kita mamaya." _I'll call you later_. "I have homework that I still need to finish."

Echo sighs out a big breath.

"Okay. Love you. Bye."

It takes a small tick from somewhere outside before one them speaks. 

"What did you mean? Let you handle it for once?" With Echo still draped over her lap, she rests her forearms on the younger girl's back, her posture being a total flake. 

Echo closes her eyes, feeling very insecure. God, Echo feels so stupid. Kenai has been taking care of her for so long. Her older sister would protect her and most of the time she'd be unsuccessful and the kids that bullied her would set their sights on Kenai - a shy ball of doubt. Kenai didn't use her words to fight her bullies, but she did glare and yet somehow one of those little shitheads was able to pick up on the fact that the bespectacled girl was harmless. Echo knew her sister was great with words, she'd secretly read her sister's journal of poems and sometimes her stories. _Shhhh! Don't tell her that!_ Except, she was incapable. Incapable of verbal fights with people she's not comfortable with. Heck, when the sisters are arguing you can expect an all-out war, but when it's not between the two of them she becomes a different person, hiding and full of uncertainty, tongue-tied. Echo was grateful for her. _Is_ grateful. She doesn't say it, but she knows that Kenai knows. 

But what she doesn't realize is that Echo feels so out of control. She can't protect herself. And Kenai has to be the one bear the brunt of _her_ burden. OF HERS! Echo fights the urge to slap herself as her arms tighten, feeling light skims on her back. The younger girl feels bad. After all the years that she has been bullied, she dares to take on Echo's problems and that's what she loves about her ate. Her sister. No matter what she has always had a big heart. She carries everyone's problems like that. She overthinks too, a disastrous habit of hers, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings even if it means hurting her own. She thinks so much about something so insignificant that others have already forgotten about it. Echo wouldn't be surprised if her sister's head exploded from contemplating every single day. Echo exhales. 

Guilt.

Exposed.

From now on, Echo wants to deal with her problems. She's not dragging her sister into this one. 

"Nothing. Good night, Key." Lifting herself from her sister's lap she moves her arms over Kenai's shoulders and holds her close. The left side of her head brushes Kenai's and she shuts her eyes painfully, harking back to the horrible moment where she had sat in a cold room beside her sister's bed as their parents stood outside to talk with the doctor. She remembers the white wrap of gauze around Kenai's head. 

Kenai hugs her back as tight as she can, tighter than she usually does and it's almost like they're killing one another in the embrace, but neither one of them complains. They both need it. 

The bespectacled girl watches with a heavy heart as Echo shuts the door with a soft thump. The teenager falls back onto her bed, hands pushing up her glasses until the heels rub over her eyes, mind whirring endlessly. That was not the end of it. Kenai could tell there was something that she was holding back but in the meantime, space is essential. 

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

Quickly, the girl adjusts herself until her back is against the headboard as she reads the name that flashes on the screen. Her lips spread into a small smile.

Camille Fairgrove.

"Hey, dude."

"Hi! I have chisme!"

Kenai groans. "I regret teaching you that word." The bespectacled teen shakes her head, listening to her best friend cackle like one of those witches that rich people buy for their lawns during Halloween season.

Out of all the children from the Table Rock rez, Camille had to be the best one - besides said girl's cousins of course. She was the only other mixed kid, born from the marriage of a Taiwanese woman and a pure Native man (homophobic pieces of shhhh), that wasn't a part of the Pikewood lineage.

_The bastard line_ , the council members would whisper.

"Your fault. Own it." The tone was encouraging and playful that it has Kenai stifling a chuckle. "ANYWHO! Your parents are being _very_ naughty."

Repulsed, Kenai's nose scrunches up. "Why are- Don't tell me you peeped in on my parents screwing. Please."

The sound of retching can be heard. " _No, Kenny!_ " Huffing dramatically, Camille starts over, carefully thinking about her next words because apparently her good friend's mind is set to pervert mode at the moment. "I heard them talking to my aunt and uncle."

"So? They always talk to your aunt and uncle." Kenai's eyes widen. "Oh God! Were they having a foursome-"

"Shut the fuck up! It's not about sex you weirdo!" The pale girl facepalms, sighing into her arm after she wipes the tears of joy from her eyes. After the younger teen mumbles a bogus apology she continues, "They were telling them to leave the rez."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I hope so. It sucks. Ever since you guys left Veronica, Mandy and I have been getting a lot more shit lately. I need to leave this shithole."

Kenai grimaces, worrying about her maternal cousins as well. "Are Brandon and Ferris helping you guys out?" 

At the mention of the brothers Camille slumps. "They're trying, but it's not enough. It's whatever, no one's getting physical or anything. But I'm pretty sure we're getting out of here. Your cousins too."

The tan girl exhales deeply. "If only they treated us right. Or taught us the ways of Native life." Most of her life she's been mulling over culture and how left out she feels. She wants to learn and it was a culture that could be dead soon. It hurts that the council members would rather have this beautiful thing die-off than have them learn it. Were they that bad? Abominations? 

"They can go and shove their foot up each other's asses. It's their loss. If they can't see how fucked up it is to exclude us then good riddance."

Kenai shrugs even though Camille can't see her. "It would've been nice though." As an afterthought, she adds, "But I do hope you, the Lakes and the Romanos move here. It's not that great but it's something."

"Oh no. What happened?"

And that's how the night went with Kenai telling her how a girl had gotten slushied. She didn't say it was Echo since she didn't know who she was allowed to tell. Might as well keep it to herself. But the story that Camille had gotten a kick out of was the moment at the playground.

"No way! You're bagging girls already?"

"I'm not bagging girls, Camille." Kenai blushes furiously, almost stuttering. "I was just being nice." And that was the actual truth. Just because she has a dick doesn't mean that it does all of her thinking for her. Jeez!

"Nice my _ass_. Never in your entire life have you ever lent me your hanky. And I know for a _fact_ that you don't just let anyone touch it. Echo can't even touch that thing without you barking at her."

"Well, that's the whole truth, Cam. I'm not bagging girls no matter how convinced you are that I am." She lets out a scoff. "I mean, have you met me? I couldn't even talk to you without stumbling over myself. I can't English. But now I can English. Still stumbling maybe, but some form of English either way."

"You keep talking like that you're going to die a virgin."

Gasping, Kenai ignores the way her heart clenches. _She's gonna die alone?_ "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin." She glances at the clock noticing that it's time for her to go to sleep. "Hey, I gotta go to bed now."

"Shit. Right, the time zone. What time is it over there?"

"Nine o'clock."

". . . you are such a grandma."

"Sweet dreams, Camille."

* * *

By the time Kenai sits down next to Kurt her resolve for that day has all but diminished and the first period hasn't even begun.

As soon as the siblings had walked in a lot more eyes were glued to them as they walked down the halls, much more doubtful about the day ahead of them. After they had separated a group of girls had come up to the bespectacled teen at her locker as soon as she opened the compartment. Embarrassingly she had backed up into her locker looking like a deer in headlights when they had formed a circle around her uneasy form.

At the moment her locker contained several tissue boxes and wet wipes. The girls had thought it upon themselves to donate some of their cleaning supplies to her since she'd be needing it more than them. That was sweet? Instead of making her feel relaxed it just confirmed her suspicions from last night.

She was a target. 

Her sister was probably a target too.

And she was freaking out. What would they do to them? Would they threaten them? Drag them into an alley and cut them up into itty bitty pieces . . .

She would have laughed if it were a scene in a movie, but unfortunately for her, this was far from it. 

"Kenai?" Kurt observes his seatmate, deducing that her anxiousness was caused by the one and only Santana Lopez. Now, he's not a psychic, but he does have good ears and a knack for gossip. He feels a tinge of worry though. His new friend was speeding through the grapevine and he doesn't think she'll be prepared for what's to come.

The girl doesn't respond at first and her focus is on touching each of her digits to her thumb. From pinky to ring to middle to pointer then back again from middle to ring to pinky. Rinse and repeat. When she does she pushes the glasses on her nose, turning to Kurt. "Ms. Pillsbury told me that this school has a bad reputation."

Kurt hums. 

"Why?"

"Slushies. A form of meatheaded control. A daily dose of remembering where you stand in the hierarchy that is William McKinley High School." Kurt's expression gets grim.

"Why aren't teachers doing anything about it?" 

"Oh believe me they have. That was a long time ago though. Can't believe this has been going on for almost two decades now."

Shock rushes to the multiracial girl's face. "Twenty years?"

"Yeah. And throwing people in dumpsters has been around longer."

Kenai shakes her head, shoulders extremely tense and rigid. "This doesn't make sense. A student could easily get suspended for doing things like that. Hell, even expelled." This was beginning to scare her. WMHS was not safe. What is this?! Survival of the fittest? 

"I heard that one of the rugby boys' parents funds the school. Coleman, I believe? What I'm guessing is that if Principal Figgins decides to purchase himself some glamorized balls then the funding would be fully eradicated."

"Wait. You're telling me that whoever this Coleman is can bully anyone?"

"No."

"Then what?" The agitation that Kenai is feeling is getting to her, shoulders aching. 

"I told you. There's a hierarchy here. If you're not wearing a red letterman or a Cheerios uniform then you're free game. They are the ones that have the power. Although, while that's what everyone thinks, there are a few of us out there who refuse to believe so." Kurt draws his chin up.

"You." _Cheerios? The cheerleaders are named after cereal?_

"Yes, but I still get slushied."

At these words Kenai deflates noticeably, her posture getting much worse than it already had been. Kurt sighs before pushing the curve of the girl's back, straightening her stance. "I'm sorry if what I said upset you, but it is the truth."

"Is it going to get worse?"

Kurt doesn't reply and pats her back instead.

The bespectacled teen's steps are considerably cautious as she walks to her locker, her nervousness had gotten to the best of her that she had forgotten her chemistry notebook. Swiftly she ducks over a water fountain before she hears a splash on a wall and someone muttering _shit_ under their breath. Confused she looks up and finds glops of red sliding down the wall. Swiveling to the right she flinches when an empty cup is thrown at her face, getting a few red drops on her forehead and hair. 

"A message from Lopez, _dweeb_." The hulking boy in a letterman spews at her and it has her digging her lower back into the fountain. It takes a full four seconds before the beast is off terrorizing another student. It takes ten seconds for Kenai to move from her spot, cheeks burning when she notices that other students have stopped to stare at her. She gazes downward, hoping to escape their eyes, but instead, she catches sight of the white and red cup. In particular, what draws her in are the tell-tales of written words beginning with the swirly end of a letter _y_. The cup is in her hands before she knows it as she wipes the red that landed on her. 

**_Don't you just love welcoming gifts, Chappy_ **

**_\- Lopez_ **

Kenai quickly licks her lips. _Great, she's a bitch and she's observant._

After getting her shit from her locker she rushes to her next class and drops into her seat, surprised when Brittany plops down next to her similar to yesterday.

"Hi, Kenai!"

The girl musters a smile that comes out as a wince. Can you blame her? She _almost_ got slushied. What a close call. _That,_ along with Kurt's words, "Beware the red," can scare the crap out of anyone. "Hi, Brittany."

"How are you today?" 

"I'm good." Kenai doesn't bother to ask her how she's doing, quite frankly exhausted by social interactions. 

Brittany frowns, but she doesn't pry. The panic that's rolling off of the girl is strong and it has the blonde shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "I was wondering if you'd like to hang out sometime."

Kenai blinks. "What?"

The blue-eyed girl laughs, teeth showing. "Yeah! I want you to meet my cat."

It's probably because Kenai is worn out but Jesus! The cat she thought about was not appropriate. Her thoughts leave her blushing and thankfully it's not apparent.

Brittany watches Kenai's ears turn red and her eyes twinkle with amusement. She knows exactly what she's thinking about. "His name is Lord Tubbington. He's a fat ball of fur and kind of bitchy but that's because his wife left him for a sphynx. Now he has an alcohol addiction." The blonde tilts her head waiting for Kenai to react. It's not much but she'll take it.

The brown-eyed girl cracks a smile, pushing her glasses up before her hand falls back into her lap, wringing them together. "Maybe, but I'll have to let my grandma know." Though, as much as Kenai wanted to see how chubby Lord Tubbington is she doesn't plan on telling her grandma and she doesn't plan on going because of:

A) she's fucking suspicious

B) she's awkward and

C) she'd rather stay home.

No offense, but she loves her bed. She'd get married to her bed. Joking! Joking!

"I can't wait."

They share a delicate smile before Ms. Berkley begins her lesson. 

After getting her lunch from her locker the tan girl walks to the auditorium unaware of two other students prowling. It's when she notices that people are staring at her again, but then moments later she realizes they aren't starting at her. They're staring behind her. 

She spins around abruptly, almost bumping heads with JBI who's almost eating his mic by how close it is to his mouth. He doesn't know how to take a hint. "Kenai Talamantes!" Kenai takes a good second to close her eyes and to open them up again when the boy pronounces her name wrong. Tail. Ah. Man. Tez. She fights the urge to roll her eyes. Ta. La. Man. Tes. "The very gal I was looking for!" At this, the camera makes itself known as Jacob's henchman all but shoves it a few inches away from her face, causing her eye to twitch with trouble.

"Please. Call me Tally." She says with a tight-lipped smile. _You're just gonna keep saying it wrong anyways._

JBI blinks back in surprise before grinning, his glasses low on his nose. "So, Tally?"

"Yes?" Maybe she should walk away. Nah, that would be rude. Just stay and bear it a little longer.

"I hear WMHS's resident right-hand woman to Quinn Fabray - the devilish Santana Lopez," the afro haired boy pauses to wink at the camera. Overkill. "Has taken a particular interest with you and your sister, Echo. _Echo!_ ECHO!" Kenai's eye twitches again and in the back of her mind, she thinks _oh boy, that **is** annoying as fuck_. 

"Look, I don't know who Quinn Fabray is, but I do know who Lopez is." She's about to ask a question before Jacob squawks so loudly that her ear is left ringing.

"You don't know who Quinn Fabray is?! HBIC! Ruler of all WMHS! Ice queen!" 

"Didn't you hear a word I just said? I explicitly said so." Oop. There goes her patience. And it's hanging by a thread. 

"Tell us," the boy exclaims, this time shoving the mic that it bumps her glasses. The worst part is that he doesn't even seem to notice. Strike three. What happened to the other strikes? Fuck the other strikes. "What do you plan on doing when she attacks?!" JBI closes in on the remaining bits of her bubble. He pops it. 

From the camera's point of view Tally's neck is zoomed in on, focused on a protruding vein before it zooms back out, catching how the bespectacled girl wettens her lips with her tongue. The recording catches the way her dark brows crinkle and the way her right eye twitches when she catches JBI following the organ like a dog. Gross. Kenai pushes him out from her space with a firm hand. It was a space that she holds dear and this little fucker just ignored all the social cues and makes it burst.

"You better listen well cuz this is the only time I will tell you." Her once soft eyes were now glaring holes into the boy who has finally taken the damn hint. "And you listen too." She glances at the boy behind the camera who nods, the object following his movements. It would be funny if they weren't in this situation right now. "Whatever you think this is will stop. You will not interview my sister. You will not interview me. You will not come near me or her with a camera ever again." The camera tracks the intenseness behind the tan girl's glasses. "Is that clear?"

" _Yes_." The boys whispered in unison.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you." Kenai steps into the JBI's bubble, testing his level of comfort. 

"Yes, Tally."

"Thank you. Have a good day to you both."

The camera follows Tally's retreating form before JBI steps into view, unfortunately capturing a view of JBI's tented crotch. "That was a doozy." His breathing was ragged and uneven. "There you have it, WMHS. Kenai Talamantes aka Tally, our new classmate and possibly Santana Lopez's new victim. Is she mysteriously attractive? I'd say so. Is she crazy? Probably. But I cannot deny how out of breath I am. Stay tuned folks!" 

After making sure that Echo was with her friend from yesterday, a girl named Tina, Kenai settles into a seat much further away from where she sat last time just in case. The girl appears at twelve-ten, right on the tick of five with a small radio in her clutch. The sandwich that Kenai had contains an egg and three pieces of bacon, all of which were now in her stomach in the span of the five minutes that she waited. Curiously, she watches the girl drink from a pink bottle and she mirrors it, picking up her bottle of water, welcoming the fraction of sixteen point nine fluid ounces. The girl walks out onto the center stage, breathing in and out. A routine that Kenai recognizes. 

At the start of a beat, Kenai's head begins bobbing from side to side, mouthing the words to herself as she listens to the brunette. Her eyes light up when she begins dancing around the stage, trotting then spinning around with the grace and comfort of a dancer.

_'Cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough_

_Ain't no valley low enough_

_Ain't no river wide enough_

_To keep me from getting to you babe_

Kenai blinks, scrutinizing herself. Man, has she let herself go? Staring at the unknowing girl thoughtfully, she smiles recognizing the spontaneous lightness in her chest.

Inspiration.

The spectacled girl makes a note to herself.

_Start dancing again. Choreograph something._

With another goal in mind, Kenai makes sure to keep the blonde from the playground in her peripherals. She should know what her name is by now. And the blonde should too, right? But her response to herself was pure displeasure. _Shut up Tally, just because you gave her your hanky - which you really want back - doesn't mean she has an interest in finding out what your name is._ Careful. Don't get a big head, you cocky little bitch.

The teacher starts roll call after the bell rings and she doesn't have to wait long.

"Margaret Davis?"

"Here."

"Peter Everly?"

"Yo."

"Quinn Fabray?"

Kenai blinks. Quinn Fabray? _Wait_. Quinn Fabray as in Quinn Fabray? HBIC. Ruler of WMHS. Ice queen. _That_ Quinn Fabray? Who is she?

"Present." 

The bespectacled girl almost shifts in her seat, but she braces for the incoming discomfort when she notices the blonde in her peripherals tilting her head to look in her direction. Shit. She knows. As to not be suspicious she doesn't move, only adjusting after the teacher calls her name.

"Tally?" 

Kenai smiles a bit when she notes that the teacher learned from yesterday. Learned what? Don't bother with her last name.

The older woman smiles back before continuing. 

Before curiosity gets the best of her Kenai shifts, focusing on the board to get her mind off the blonde cheerleader at the other side of the room. She finds out minutes later that the lesson includes doing peer work and seeing that she and Quinn (a name to put for a beautiful set of eyes) were the only ones that didn't have seatmates she starts getting nervous. Would she say something? She did save her in the bathroom. But she is the HBIC. The biggest bitch of them all. So it scares her to ponder about what she could have done to earn that title. 

The teacher gets that _look_ when she glances between the blonde and the raven-haired girl. 

"Kenai-"

The girl sucks in a breath. Here it comes.

Only . . . it doesn't.

A knock interrupts the classroom and a girl with glasses waltzes in with an awful scowl. It leaves Kenai wondering as to why on earth would people be afraid of Quinn if this girl was looking at people like _that_.

"Ms. Pepper! Of course, how could I forget? Please, take your seat." 

At that Kenai suddenly finds her hands much more interesting, not knowing if she'd want someone sitting next to her or not. The choice is obvious when the chair beside her makes a noise. Yup. She's sitting next to her. She's kind of disappointed. The bespectacled girl licks her lips while sitting up in her seat and squaring her shoulders back. To what? To seem confident? Hell, she doesn't even know. Her instincts are weird. 

The next few minutes Kenai can feel tingling on the side of her neck and instantly she knows that Suzy Pepper is inspecting her, probing. "Something on my face?" She wills herself to speak, the unease that settles over her shoulders not knowing when to relax. She doesn't turn her head though. 

"Eyes. Nose. Lips."

"Good observation." Kenai shoots her a wry smile, finally noticing the particular bandana tied around her head. "You like peppers so much, huh?"

"And you're new."

"Yeah. Are you?"

"No."

Silence. Absolute silence.

That was dry.

To the side, Quinn Fabray glares at the back of Pepper's head for forcing her to do triangle work with two mouthbreathers.

* * *

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch and while the news would make others happy Kenai knew better than to start skipping down the hall while singing kumbaya. Something bad was going to happen and she didn't like it one bit. 

For the time being (the three days), Kenai sits alone every single day at the back and waits for the brunette to show and each time she's mesmerized by what she hears.

_But since you been gone_

_I can breathe for the first time_

_I'm so movin' on, yeah, yeah_

_Thanks to you_

_Now I get, I get what I want_

_Since you been gone_

On Thursday Kenai is late. So instead of going through the doors she usually goes through she had to go around and finds herself on the balcony, leaning behind the wall as she hangs on to the melodic words that the brunette sings with a passion that's far greater than her small body if passion were a tangible thing.

_Do you remember_

_The twenty-first night of September?_

_Love was changing the minds of pretenders_

_While chasing the clouds away_

_Our hearts were ringing_

_In the key that our souls were singing_

_As we danced in the night_

_Remember how the stars stole the night away_

On that same day after school Kenai finds herself dancing in the basement in front of the closet that has mirror doors. On that night she sleeps blissfully, August snuggled up into her chest.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiPnHfjsosA>

Finally, on Friday, Kenai is on time, lunch gone in three minutes. The brunette emerges once more and Kenai takes the time to appreciate the different style. Gone was the skirt and the argyle vest and in place was a pair of jeans and a striped long-sleeved shirt. The song that begins makes the bespectacled girl smile, reminiscing on the times where she watched the movie. She has the DVD somewhere in her room.

_I know there's someone,_

_Somewhere,_

_Someone,_

_Who's sure to find me soon,_

_After the rain goes,_

_There are rainbows,_

_I'll find my rainbow soon,_

_Soon it won't be just pretend,_

_Soon a happy ending,_

_Love can you hear me,_

_If you're near me,_

_Sing your song,_

_Sure and strong and soon_

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awCJnUg5dBs>

Kenai finds a smile plastered onto her face at the end of it. She can't find anything wrong with the way she sang. The only thing wrong with it is that it was too short. Very, very short. If she were a baby she would probably be asleep by now considering how soothing the brunette's voice was.

Someone tell her why she feels her heart leaping out of her chest as though she was going to be flown up to the embracement of the angels. Her eyes shine, enthralled and enchanted by someone who doesn't even know she exists. Someone whose eyes don't know her. Tell her why she feels so light. Tell her why there’s warmth all over her body. Tell her why she has the goosies when she's wearing a long sleeve. Someone tell her _why_.

That was the most beautiful minute and a half she had ever experienced in her life. 

Reality came in the form of an icy slap.

"Kenai?"

The male teacher raises his head when there's no response.

"She's not here," Santana answers with a simper, looking very pleased with herself.

In the locker rooms, Ms. Pillsbury leaves behind a girl and instead of nurturing this girl, she's specifically told to not tell the younger sister to which the redhead respects the decision. In lieu, she makes it her mission to find the girl's last period teacher, to excuse her absence and it was the least he could do considering that the mastermind was in that same class as the victim. 

At the very last stall, fingers grip onto the top of it, knuckles whitening. Silver ring in her pocket.

A fist drives into the wall. Right. Left. Right. Now it's only the right. Rinse and repeat. The sounds of striking can be heard repeatedly in the rushes of thumps that curl around the girl's environment, the sound almost relaxing to the girl's ears. That she's there. And she loses herself somewhere in her thoughts, the only indication that she's aware of what she's doing to her skin is when her face contorts in agony. She can't stop. Obsessive. Not until she feels numb. Everything was blurry.

It stops altogether.

Kenai drops her sticky forehead into the cold frigidness of the tiled stall. Both her hands reach upward. When her palms flatten against the small squares, her teeth clench and her lips curl up into a grimace, but she doesn't snatch her hand away. It stays. She feels the sting. She feels the way her knuckles are struggling to be kept flat against the surface. She feels the stickiness, the way her skin suctions onto the wall. The right palm pushes further until her digits spread out, trembling. 

The girl sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, fighting off the sudden warmth that appears on the surface of her already obscured vision. Squinting as she rests on her temple, a drop languidly spills from her eye, yet instead, she chooses to notice the swelling along her knuckles and the ghastly cuts that have emerged.

That's a lot of blood.

Something touches her shoulder and she's so fucking desensitized that she doesn't find it in herself to jolt at the sudden intrusion. 

Her eyes angle to the right.

Glasses.

Red jean overalls and a long-sleeve.

And a bandana that's spread with peppers.

The hand disappears before it softly circles around her tan wrist just above her wristwatch, ticking and ticking, the sound feeling like a hammer in her chest.

Suzy pulls her out of the stall.

Kenai lets her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment about how fucked up this is I guess.


	4. Kinda Stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts from Season 1 x Episode 1 (aka Pilot) will show up
> 
> (edited) wtf I wrote 12,797 words in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please reread the tags because I keep forgetting to add a specific one that plays an important role in this. Also, pay attention to the dates because there are flashbacks and it's going to get confusing. 
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of suicide, homophobia, I don't know how MySpace works, etc.

_"Listen to silence. It has so much to say."_

_\- Rumi_

* * *

**September 11, 2009 | Friday**

Kenai had thought long and hard about what to say to Suzy Pepper. This girl, who she admits has a sort of oddness that puts her off but all at the same time she understood because she is also that. An oddity.

The brunette had asked her for her locker combination to get her extra set of clothes and surprisingly she had given it, something that would have gotten Echo to raise a brow because it was something that she too can't imagine herself doing. She had only known Suzy for about four days and that was certainly not enough time for trust to be built on. And trust is a big thing for her. Her locker is a sanctuary and it is a part of her that she holds dear. Not just anyone can get their hands on her combination. So why had she done it? Was it because she had seen her in a vulnerable position? She had seen her beat the shit out of a wall when in reality it was her hands that had taken the beating. But why had she done it? 

Now in the nurse's office, she fidgets beside Suzy Pepper in her black jeans and her awfully red gym shirt. There's sick tension in her shoulders that makes her hunch due to the questionable presence. _Shouldn't she be in class right now?_ After a moment she notices how the brunette turns to her, making another round of her assessments that she had noticed every time the English period began by the sound of the bell. She has yet to get used to it. It was creepy but it wasn't JBI creepy so she doesn't mind it _that_ much.

Then she feels that gaze dip down. 

The tan girl doesn't bother hiding her discomfort here as she attempts to hide her roughened knuckles between her thighs. Instead of addressing this, she focuses on the way she wriggles her toes inside her shoes, scraping the dampness that the slushies had smothered on her toe boxes. Yet, she feels the shame that leaks into her system and how she had lost control of her anger. She ruminates over and over on what Suzy may think of her now. That she's sitting next to a psychopath who can't control herself. Someone that's broken. Someone unhinged.

She gets lost.

Her thoughts haul her consciousness in and it has her thinking about Samuel Miller. It has her thinking about his bat and the _clink_ that it had made on the cement. It has her thinking about waking up at the hospital and Echo throwing herself at her when she had noticed that she had woken. Kenai still remembers the way she had sobbed in an ugly way, more so than what happened after the younger of the two of them had gotten slushied on the first day. She had embraced her with so much intenseness and she remembers the way Echo had grabbed her face with both hands. And despite the blurriness of her vision that day she had seen the relief in her sister's eyes. Then she remembers how she'd sit in her bed staring at the wall all summer, hand to her skull. She remembers getting up and making sure that she's alone at home before she goes back to her room to punch a wall, picturing Samuel Miller's face.

Thump.

Thump. 

_Thump_. 

Suzy blinks, taken aback by the single tear that runs down the cheek that's visible to her. She had never really been the type to know what to do in these types of situations. She was an awkward thing that had become even more of a queer in the eyes of her classmates after she had returned from her esophagus transplant. The brunette sits, her usually sour face softening. She recognizes this type of crying - despair - and she prides herself for her ability to read people even if she wasn't an expert in the art of comforting others. 

But then the waterworks check-in and it has her fumbling more so than when she had been deciding what to say to one William Michael Schuester.

Before she can gracelessly put her flimsy arm over Kenai's shaking shoulders, the nurse opens the door. At the sight of the brunette, the gray-haired woman narrows her eyes at Suzy and puts her hands on her hips which makes the girl gulp. 

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Murdock." Suzy sheepishly smiles at the older woman before glancing at the girl beside her who has hidden her face by ducking her head, hunch worsening.

" _Good?_ What a load of baboon ass." Mrs. Murdock says with a huff. "What happened this time?" She asks after taking one look at the tan student, hands a _little_ worse for wear. "I told you that I don't want to see you here again, Suzy. You ought to give me a heart attack one of these days."

The brunette winces, thinking back to the times she had run to the nurse's office to bawl her eyeballs out and how the older woman had glared at her only to throw a box of tissues at her head each time without fail. "Yes, yes. But you see, I just came here to supervise." Suzy pleads, eyes begging as she gives a pointed shake of her head to the right, indicating the girl in pain. "I swear, I haven't ordered any more peppers from the dark web."

Mrs. Murdock rolls her eyes. "Better not. Else I'm going to be whacking you. I'll give you a reason to blackout."

Suzy responds with another mortified grin.

The older woman shakes her head before she relaxes, stepping out of the doorway. "Head on in."

Suzy smiles gratefully before grasping Kenai by her bicep. The dark-haired girl is much more passive when Suzy brings her across the threshold and makes her sit down on the sofa. She's about to walk away before Kenai's hand stops her and her head turns, noticing how there's eye contact this time before it's flickering all over the place. Nervous and eyes slightly puffy, but all remnants of the tears have been wiped. Kenai glances at the space beside her before tugging on her wrist a little bit which reminds Suzy of her little cousins, especially the youngest one. The shy one. Getting the hint quickly she drifts into the open cushion. 

Later on, Suzy realizes just how indrawn her classmate is. When Mrs. Murdock had asked Kenai directly about what had happened to her hands the girl had looked at her for help, asking with her eyes. And Suzy had answered for her three seconds later and a bit gratified that this girl needed her, that someone needed her. After Mrs. Murdock had wrapped Kenai's hands with gauze and had left the room Suzy begins her evaluation once again. She had found someone who was very doubtful and insecure and it just clicked in her head about how similar they were, maybe not that similar, but still. Like two sides of the same coin, but she calls dibs on heads.

"I skipped a grade." Suzy watches as Kenai jolts, looking at her confused. "When you asked if I was new to the school and I said no, I'm redoing my sophomore year so I'm falling back down to the grade level that I was supposed to be in."

Kenai doesn't reply and seems embarrassed by her lack of response. There's an uncomfortable pause before she begins, "Thank you. For helping me." 

Suzy shrugs. "It's what everyone should do, but then everyone else in this school is either too afraid or is a grade-a-butthole." When Kenai only responds with a small chuckle it eases Suzy's sense of ineptitude, but she's still restless, she swallows, finding the entire situation awkward. _Come on, give me something to work with. Talk._ "I spent six months of intense psychotherapy after having an esophagus transplant."

This gets the other girl going. "Why? What happened?" Then, she blinks. "If . . . you don't mind me asking?"

"The world's hottest pepper," Suzy mutters under her breath before tsking. The other spectacled girl stares at her blankly and the brunette shakes her head before continuing, "I have self-esteem issues that could not bear rejection. I was delusional and I have a case of liking boys that I know I can never have in my corner."

"And the pepper? It burned your esophagus so bad that you had to get a transplant?" Kenai's brows furrow concluding with uncertainty.

"I like you. You're smart." Suzy tells her nonchalantly who responds with an unsure shrug. "But yeah."

"Was the boy special?"

"He's a teacher at this school."

Kenai stills, eyes widening before she tries to school her features but Suzy had already seen it and now the brunette waits for the tan girl to call her crazy or to say something that she has heard before. And she has heard many things. Very colorful things. But Kenai doesn't respond at all and instead, Suzy is met with uncomfortable silence again. "Well say _something_." She demands impatiently and Kenai tenses, shoulders pulling back defensively. It was a sign to the brunette. Something was going to happen. This has Suzy clapping in her head because _finally!_ She needs to have a conversation with a person, not a _wall_. 

"I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"Let me tell you something, I want brutal honesty. I'm tired of people treating me like I'm fragile. And besides, it's not like I'm going to commit suicide."

Kenai flinches. "That's not something you should joke about."

Suzy rolls her eyes. "Sorry." The girl droops in her seat, leaning on the armrest and positions an elbow on it so that she can still have the girl in her sight. "Go. Honesty." 

The taller of the two takes the time to look at her and Suzy suddenly feels out of her element at the way Kenai watches her attentively, gauging for something. Indeed. She _was_ trying to find something, trying to anticipate what would happen if she were honest. And despite her soft exterior, some parts of her could be spontaneously aggressive. "It's illegal. I'm glad that whoever this teacher is rejected you because it would have been messy." Kenai tilts her head. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"So you were fourteen when you professed your feelings. To a teacher." Kenai tells her slowly, a bit reluctant with her words. "You have so many years ahead of you. There's plenty of more fish in the sea."

"Look at me," the brunette tells her exasperatedly as if Kenai can't already see her, hand gesturing at her body before letting it slap her thigh with hopelessness. "I am mildly attractive." 

Kenai leans back and she thinks about how to approach this without it seeming gay because the last thing she needs is this girl running out and telling the first person that she sees is how they have a lesbo in their midst. Channeling her inner Echo, Kenai scrutinizes the choice of clothing and the way Suzy scowls at her, noticing. That was going to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. "If only you'd smile more." Kenai doesn't understand how this girl who has helped her in one of her most vulnerable moments can go from sweet to sour in seconds.

"I have nothing to be happy about."

Kenai makes a face at that. " _Impossible_. There are plenty of things to be happy about." 

Suzy looks at her and is kind of freaked out by how fast the girl can go from shy to whatever _this_ is.

"How many friends do you have?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" The brunette frowns, her forehead creasing slightly. Kenai doesn't respond again and she begins thinking if the discomforting pauses from before were on purpose or not. Wrinkling her nose, she huffs, letting a rude sound out from her nose. "None."

Kenai smiles at her sadly, she knows that feeling well. "Now you have one."

Suzy freezes, eyes wide with disbelief. "Why?" Besides being intuitive Suzy was also self-aware. She was conscious of what she was and what she wasn't. She certainly wasn't nice. Maybe with the people that she liked she would be but then her nonfiltered mouth would start kicking in and people would assume that she's a major jerk. She's not the jerkiest of jerks, but she was one of them from a different point of view. And with the way she had snapped and the way her impatience has been dragging her, she's shocked. How patient was Kenai? With the way she found the girl socking her way into the wall, she should've been punched already for her unpleasantness. Not that she's asking for it, _of course_ , but still. _She_ would've punched _herself_. 

The girl pushes up her glasses with her thumb, finding in her mind how to respond. "Why not?" She shoots back at her, eyes twinkling. "Now, does having a friend make you happy?"

The brunette cocks her head before the thin line of her mouth quirks up slightly.

When Echo comes into her room that late afternoon she knows what she's there for; hell, she felt it when they were walking home and her sister's eyes had been glued on her the entirety of the time.

The door is thrown open and it bounces off the wall, almost hitting Echo in the process. "What's wrong with your hands?" The milky-skinned girl asks as soon as she recovers from her blunder.

Kenai, being prepared for this, continues doing her math homework, trying to finish the last problem. "Nothing." Good answer, right?

The younger girl plops down onto the floor, setting herself next to the open doorway. "Come on. Tell me. What's so wrong about letting me know?" 

_The same reason you don't want me to tell mom_ is what she wants to say, but she keeps it at bay, knowing that bringing it up while it was still fresh was a big no-no. "There's nothing wrong about letting you know, I just think it's something I want to keep to myself." Putting her school stuff in her backpack she puts it up against the wall beside her sister and strolls out, not oblivious to the fact that she's following her.

"You got slushied didn't you?" Echo hisses, catching hold of the bespectacled girl's elbow, stopping her. She circles the motionless body, searching Kenai's face unabashedly. "The clothes that you wore to school weren't the clothes that you wore when we went home."

The tan sister remains quiet, cursing at Echo's decision to pay attention for once. "It's nothing I can't handle." She jerks her arm from her sister's hold and descends the stairs still aware that her sister is following her. Kenai rolls her eyes. Right. The Tallys are stubborn, how could she forget?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Kenai swivels around and catches Echo by her shoulders before they ram into each other. "That's because I don't want you worrying about me."

"But we're sisters, Key. I should have the right to worry about you too." Echo clutches Kenai's wrist, staring at the white gauze before she fixes her sister a look. "It goes both ways. Just because you're older doesn't mean that I can't protect you." There's that tone again that makes Kenai tense. She's begging and pleading again and she doesn't like it one bit. 

The eyes that are behind glasses soften. "I know that." She utters feebly. "But still, if I was doing a good job of protecting you you wouldn't have been slushied. That's on me." The weight on Kenai's chest doubles and it has her placing both her hands on Echo's cheeks. She needs her to understand that, to wrap her head around the fact that she doesn't want her to end up like her older sister, battered down and hospitalized. "I promise you. I will do whatever I can so that it doesn't happen again. I _promise_ you." 

Echo stares up at her, eyes revealing something hidden, but Kenai doesn't know exactly what. The only thing left to do now is for Kenai to pull Echo into her arms and squeeze her even if it hurts when her hands grip her sister's shoulders. "You know that right?" That was out of insecurity from her side; she's always been doubtful and for that feeling to be assorted with imagination, it's something that makes her double back to make certain that whoever she was speaking to understood where she was going, that whatever she did was not out of spite, but out of the depths of her heart.

The younger Tally clutches back at her, fingers clenching the back of her shirt. "I know. It's annoying but I know." Echo sniffles.

"Hey, don't start." Kenai shakes her a little bit, bringing a thumb to wipe the tear that wants to fall, still hugging one another. "Cuz once you start crying we both know that I'm gonna start crying."

"That's because you're a pussy. You cry at everything." 

Kenai pulls back and smacks the back of her head before she drags her to the kitchen with an arm around the shorter girl's neck, laughing as Echo rubs the back of her skull. When they go into the kitchen they notice Nanay Tilda on the phone, speaking animatedly. When the matriarch realizes that they're in the room she lights up, "Hold on, Edgar. Come on, kids! Talk to your grandfather."

Echo pushes her and Kenai rolls her eyes before taking the phone from Graham's hand, her hoodie covering the gauze. "Hello! Tatay?!"

"Kilo. Echo. November. Alpha. India."

Kenai smiles widely. "Tango. Alpha. Tango. Alpha. Yankee." She faintly hears Echo groaning behind her and she snickers, knowing full well that she had forgotten how to spell her name in military format. One hint: It's not just echo.

"YES! You still know it, huh?"

"Of course I know the alphabet! It's like the easiest thing to learn. When are you coming home? I want to play chess with you."

"I'll be coming home soon. Why so eager? Have you been learning new moves so you can finally beat me?"

Kenai gasps, hearing the smugness in Tatay's tone. "Shut up, old-timer. I'll beat you one day. I swear it." Tatay lets out a hearty laugh and it leaves her grinning, eyes shifting. Hissing, she notices the time on the oven and her eyes widen. "I gotta go now. I'm gonna hand the phone to Echo. Okay. Love you."

Echo groans heavily, snatching the phone out of Kenai's hand. "Wanna give me a clue?" She breathes out with the desperation of a student who had been called on for not paying attention, putting a milky hand over the microphone side.

" _Hell no_. Figure it out yourself, fucking goober." Kenai pulls a face when Echo sticks her tongue out at her, obviously disgruntled as if they hadn’t had a heart to heart a few minutes ago.

Shaking her head she walks to her grandmother at the sink and hugs her from behind (hands hidden), hoping that her affection will grant her freedom. " _Nanay_. Can I go out for a walk?"

"Why? Are you going out to meet a girl?" Tilda wiggles her eyebrows, grin wicked as she scrubs the fish-shaped bowl that she recalls eating tuna salad from. 

"NO." Her response is indignant and it has Nanay raising a brow. "I just want to go out for a walk. I need fresh air."

"Riiiiiiight. And I was born yesterday."

Kenai jumps up and down with the exuberance of a needy child, gripping at the sleeve of Graham's shirt. "Pretty please. I'll just be around the neighborhood." When Tilda doesn't budge Kenai scowls before an idea pops into her head. Time to bring out the big guns. " _Please_."

The tall girl ducks her head and rubs it along her grandmother's arm like a dog. She lifts that arm and wraps it around her head as she peeks up, letting the light shine her eyes, putting her puppy dog eyes into play. "I'll pluck out the white hairs from your head tomorrow if you want."

When Tilda looks down, Kenai knew it was all over and she's already running to the door, slipping on her black shoes hurriedly. "Make sure you're back before dinner! And I better get a discount!"

"I will! Ten cents for each strand!"

The last thing she hears is Echo speaking with their grandfather, still trying to figure out how to spell her name. "Echo." Pause. "My name is literally in the alphabet! Can't you give me a free pass?!" The way she squawks has Kenai screeching with laughter as she locks the door. 

"Echo. Charlie. Hotel. Oscar."

It takes about fifteen minutes for Kenai to get to the playground and she sits on the bench, eyes momentarily flitting over to the tic-tac-toe panel and there's no sign of _the_ Quinn Fabray. HBIC. Ruler of William McKinley High School. Ice Queen. It was a good thing too, she was already wearing her pajamas and it was kind embarrassing if the blonde saw her like this. But there was that treacherous part of her (the lonely part) that had hoped the blonde would be there. It hasn't even been more than a day ever since she had gained Suzy Pepper as a new friend and she was already thinking of recruiting more people to her friend group. Attention! Attention! Please come forward to obtain a new friend. Absolutely free with guaranteed crying and weirdness. Anyone? No one? Okay, whatever. 

The bespectacled girl glances at her watch and it's 5:11. She doesn't know what happens but the next time she remembers blinking is when it's 5:25; she had felt herself go cross-eyed and she had thought to fix that before she stares at nothing again. Then 5:36 is when the itch in her side comes and she has to use the heel of her hand to get rid of the pesky thing.

Kenai blinks. _What the hell? That was fast._

Deciding that it was time to leave she rights herself, lengthening her back and hearing her spine crackle at the simple action. Putting pressure on the soles of her feet she falters when a person suddenly sits beside her and she'd usually look away, but considering how the playground was empty she'd rather be certain that the person was friendly-looking enough before she becomes the newspaper's next headline: **Girl Found Dead in Playground**

The teenager hunches and immediately looks away. Her immediate response is to try to find a way to approach this without getting noticed (escaping) but that would be impossible. There were only two of them in the same vicinity. It would take a whole lotta distracting to accomplish that. She'd be lucky if a black cat comes running passed their feet. Be that as it may, she plants herself as comfortably as she could on the bench, having an inkling that Quinn Fabray has a lot more words to say to her compared to their last meeting at the playground.

And she should be running away, shouldn't she? Quinn Fabray was the HBIC. The bitchiest bitch (that's what everyone else has been saying) and here she was, practically slapping herself on a rock with a side of fries and a sign that says EAT ME. Maybe she has a death wish. She hasn't decided yet. 

The blonde still had her uniform on and Kenai can't tell if it was a sort of power play that she wanted to ensure. If it was . . . well, it was working. Kenai picked at her pajamas with chagrin, short nails nipping at the fabric. _Rawr_. She mouths, staring at the tiny dinosaurs on her pants. 

Less than two feet away Quinn sits, her mind running about in distress. In her head, she's thankful for the silence that welcomes her and how Kenai Talamantes doesn't seem to mind her occupying the other half of the bench, nor does it seem like she's going to break that special tranquility that surrounds them for mindless chatter. 

* * *

**_September 7, 2009 | Monday_ **

"- can't believe she works there. Nowadays the grocery store'll hire anyone."

"Really? Who else did you see?"

The man swirls the glass of whiskey with the support of his three fingers, blonde bushy brows furrowed in thought as he stares at the red stone of his class ring shining due to the illumination of the grand chandelier that's suspended over the dining table. "I heard those two daffodils in the other aisle. _Pfft_. They were arguing over who was going to make dinner. A bunch of fairies if you ask me. I mean if you wanna be a faggot then go on ahead but keep it to yourself. There are children present for goodness' sake."

"Russel, be nice. The Berrys are good men."

"Not man enough apparently." The man, Russel, says under his breath. "You know I wouldn't be surprised if their kid turns out to be a lesbian. God have mercy on that poor child."

To the side, a blonde teenager with hazel eyes nudges the green beans off, the gleaming fork in her hand moving with deliberation to free the pod that's trying to squeeze out. A metaphor for her own life. Clenching her jaw she attempts to drown out the vile words that her father uses. It disgusts her sometimes when she looks at him, reminding her constantly that that man had contributed to making her. It was a better eye-opener versus what church school has been teaching her.

After the horrendous attempt at a peaceful dinner, Quinn waits until the house has skidded to a hush before she scampers down the stairs, the shadows along the walls feeling more like childhood friends than monsters. Pushing up her glasses, the blonde skids across the cool floors of the kitchen, eyes gliding over each diamond where a bottle of the most delicious wine would lay. With a determined hand, the blonde slides out the bottle and turns around only to be blinded by the sudden appearance of light. 

"Oh, Quinnie. It's a bit early in the school year for you to be indulging already, don't you think so?" Judy Fabray quirks the family brow at her, looking radiant in her nightclothes.

Quinn gulps, the bottle held tight to her chest. This is it. She's been waiting for it long. _Yell at me. Show me that you care._ The swirly vortex in her chest is knocking each time it makes one rotation and it feels so frenzied but so connected to her other organs that with each swirl she feels her stomach twisting along with it. 

The older blonde stares at her daughter curiously before closing the distance, hand circling the neck of the bottle. Now in her grasp, the blonde reads the label silently.

The younger of the two ducks her head down, still awaiting the inevitable. Then, something unexpected happens. She feels something press against her stomach. Giving her mother a quizzical look, she holds the bottle in her hands once more. 

Judy smiles, hand curling over Quinn's cheek while the younger blonde moves her face closer, familiarizing herself again with the warmth of her mother's palm. 

"This is expensive. Better savor it, all right?" Judy brushes her thumb over Quinn's cheek before moving around her to grab herself a bottle from the rack. Not another word is said between them and Quinn is left alone in the dark when her mother shuts the light off. 

The blonde sinks into herself, declining against the island, not noticing the impact that her ribs make with the edge. The only thing that holds her now is the glass of liquid against her chest. The cork points at her and she stares back before plodding back to her room, steps much heavier than her descent. 

_**September 8, 2009 | Tuesday** _

Quinn grinds her teeth, wooden pencil pausing on the ivory sheet.

"What the hell dude?! Stop playing like an idiot!" 

"Finn."

". . ."

"Finn."

". . ."

"FINN!"

"Yes!" The blonde glares at him, but it goes unnoticed. "Yes, what is it?"

"Can you stop yelling? I'm trying to do my homework right now."

"Yeah, babe." 

Quinn narrows her eyes when the tall boy replies glibly, mouth hung open, eyes dead set on the television screen. Rolling her eyes, she goes back to the task at hand, flipping the book open to answer the comprehension question. 

" _Suck on that you piece of shit!_ "

"FINN!"

The yell surprises the boy, making him fall out of his seat when the voice explodes next to his ear. He looks up finding his girlfriend baring her teeth at him like a vampire. _Like a sexy vampire_. Shaking his head at the thought, the boy sheepishly smiles at her like he's done nothing. "Yes, babe?"

"Do something else. _Please_. I'm trying to do my work for school. Go play on your computer or something."

Taking the hint, the tall boy makes himself at home at his desk.

It's pure bliss even if sounds are coming from the computer, but she'll take what she can get. It isn't until Quinn starts smelling something wrong in the air. Something really really wrong. "Did you fart?" She asks, pinching her nose and palm covering her mouth.

The only answer she gets is Finn throwing a can of Febreze on the bed beside her before he bolts out of the room and by the sound of it, to the bathroom. 

Still covering her nose, she's on her feet and sprays the entire room until it's drowning with lavender, a smell that makes her think briefly of a certain spitfire on her team. She nears the computer and a video is still playing as she pushes the chair in but pauses when she hears the voice of another girl.

_"Look, I don't know who Quinn Fabray is, but I do know who Lopez is."_

At the mention of her name, she regards the screen and her eyes widen when she sees Kenai Talamantes. The girl from her English period, but most importantly the girl from the playground. Although she had known the other girl for less than four days she already held a special fondness for her, a distinct type of peculiarity that would be quite difficult to forget. Body running on autopilot, her hand drags the seat out from the desk and she perches herself on it, finger clicking the mouse. The video rewinds and it's a blog from that freshman fink, JBI. 

The video starts with the camera following Kenai Talamantes as she walks, ponytail swishing side to side, plastic bag in hand, and very oblivious to the fact that a bunch of creeps were stalking her. Quinn lowers at the screen when JBI suddenly screeches into the microphone, bastardizing the raven-haired girl's name (like she had done just then in her head) and notices the way she seems to think so as well when she shuts her eyes, ear twitching.

The small movement has the blonde smiling a bit as she props her head on clenched fingers; for a second it reminded her of Dumbo and the way his ears had flapped back and forth in excitement.

_"Please. Call me Tally."_

_"So, Tally?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I hear WMHS's resident right-hand woman to Quinn Fabray - the devilish Santana Lopez - has taken a particular interest with you and your sister, Echo. Echo! ECHO!"_

At the mention of Santana, her brows furrow, a ball of warmth sinking and settling into her stomach. Licking her tingling lips and crossing her legs, she pauses the video. What does Santana have to do with Kenai and Echo Talamantes? She looks back at the video and it leaves her snorting into her palm when she notices the weird expression that she left Kenai on with one of her eyes being smaller than the other. Looking away, she tries to calm herself, taking little exhales before she looks again only to bite her lip to keep her smile from spreading. 

"Dumbo." Quinn shakes her head, staring at the bespectacled girl whose face was still suspended in an awkward position. She clicks the mouse.

_"Look, I don't know who Quinn Fabray is, but I do know who Lopez is."_

The admission has a blonde brow curling up. _She doesn't know me huh?_

_"Didn't you hear a word I just said? I explicitly said so."_

This has Quinn smirking, enjoying this side that she was witnessing. Evidently, the girl wasn't all that meek, still very human with perfectly reasonable responses to irritating people.

_"Tell us-"_ The next thing that happens has her saying _oh no_ when JBI knocks his mic into Kenai's glasses. If she had been in her place she would have thrown him off a cliff by now, but that was delicate of her; perhaps, she should tell the football team to hang him by his shorts. See, when handling these types of deviations she has learned that with the power of her position on the Cheerios _daintiness_ isn't an option when approaching any forms of a nasty hiccup.

The camera zooms in on Kenai's neck and Quinn's finger has a mind of its own, managing to botch up the process of pausing a video and accidentally plays it again. Chastising herself and trying to prove that she's recollecting her thoughts, the blonde looks away from the screen that showcases the smooth tan neck, vein peeking out like a sly fox. Giving in - _she's **not** giving in_ \- she catches the insanely pink tongue that slides across chapped lips, wettening them, revealing their true potential. Crimson and-

_Shut up_. How the mighty have truly fallen. She's chronicling a tongue during her free time in full detail. _A tongue._

Pinching herself, the cheerleader listens to the demands of the culturally ambiguous girl and applauds the way she punctuates each one, especially the one that focuses on the sister. There's determination and it's potent behind those glasses - she's a bit peeved when she notices one detail about those specs: Quinn wants to push them up, its lowness bothering her. But there's a specific something that nettles at the crisps of her skirt. 

Like any other human that had a beating heart and the hormones of a teenager, she knew exactly where her most secretive thoughts were guiding her. _The tongue_. She has eyes and she could see what was in front of her. Here was a girl who had stumbled upon her offering a hanky that she keeps between her dreams and her pillow, a girl who has offered nothing but kindness, yet it was still too early to tell just how quantitative that good nature was. Even so, she doesn't doubt that the spectacled girl was filled with utmost modesty. Kenai Talamantes has consideration for feelings. It doesn't take much detective work to comprehend that the spectacled girl was protective of her younger sibling. Protective was another golden token in the chalice. And no, this is not interest. It's called looking around the shop but not buying anything. But this is where it gets complicated.

And how does this all connect?

Frannie and she had never been that close. And she supposes it was a good thing since the older girl (now woman) was a manipulative, self-righteous - you can tell where this is going. They have always been competitive ever since Quinn had popped out from her mother's belly, except for that gap where she had turned into the very thing she didn't want to be with the help of something called the sneaky wits of an older sibling. Lucy Caboosey. This had given Frannie her time to shine while she was giving her younger sister protein bars that made her gain weight. A disappointment in their parents' eyes. So, being done with her wallowing she had risen again like a phoenix reborn. She had become Quinn. The Quinn who could have any boy she wants . . . 

Frannie was currently married to a good Christian man who's in _way_ over his head for her. And that was the icing on the cake for their parents.

Former head cheerleader. Prom queen. B student.

Here she was. Straight A's. Also a head cheerleader and what does she get?

_Go get drunk, honey._

So she keeps the uniform until her parents notice something important other than themselves. The plus side is that being on the Cheerios kept her fit and that was something she could never complain about.

But what they can't get is what's inside her head. She'll find a way. She always finds one. What they don't know can't hurt them.

Game on, Granny Frannie.

Her digits are moving again and the sound of clicks resound the entirety of the bedroom. Her eyes flicker over the MySpace page and she clicks on a video, scrolling through the comments.

_[Sky Splits] If I were your parents, I would sell you back._

_[Hi Ho Cheerio!] I'm going to scratch out my eyes._

_[The Cheerios] Please get sterilized._

Gulping down the sudden harshness in her throat, Quinn's lips pull into a grim line. Hazel reads through the first comment then back again, until she's read it more than fifteen times. The cursor hovers over her comment, Rachel Berry's voice in the background. 

"Hey, babe." 

Quinn goes back to the previous video of JBI harassing Kenai Talamantes as if nothing happened during the time that her boyfriend's stomach decided to take a break.

**_September 9, 2009 | Wednesday_ **

"You should come over today, Q. Lord Tubbington misses your head pats." The blue-eyed blonde's face is glowing and Quinn finds it impossible to be immune to her happiness and joy. It doesn't help that the blonde knows exactly how to convince her; she has no business looking at her like that all innocent and cuddly. She's grumbling inwardly, _no fair_ , she wasn't even given the chance to prepare herself.

"I can't, my parents-" _Your parents are what?_ _Overbearing?_ Brittany hunkers down to her eye level, doing a little dance in her spot that makes the head Cheerio titter. "On second thought, they'll understand."

" _YES!_ It's been ages." Brittany drops her things in her locker to grab Quinn's left hand and swoops in, leaving the shorter blonde blushing before realizing that the taller of the two had kissed her cheek with a loud _smack_. 

"Don't forget to say thank you, pastry nipple lover."

Hand falling from her warm cheek, Quinn turns to Santana, suddenly annoyed with her hands on her hips. It doesn't go unnoticed how the Latina has her chin thrust out and pulling that _try me_ look as if it would actually _work_ on her. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" She narrows her eyes. It was very _very_ early in the morning and she did not have the patience nor enough amounts of caffeine in her system to deal with the girl's nonsense.

"As many times as it takes. 'Sides, I don't hear you disagreeing with me 'bout Finnessa’s tits being bigger than yours." Santana gives her a half-hearted shrug with a dash of a smirk and it has Quinn ignoring the way her finger itches, wanting to poke the dimple in her cheek. "That's a far greater concern than having your wee little feelings hurt, wouldn't you say so, Fabray?"

Rolling her eyes, Quinn slides her hand out of Brittany's, not noticing the way her bottom lip juts out a second later. "I didn't think you of all people would be worried about my feelings, Lopez. As for my private parts being smaller, it does raise a question. Are you speaking from experience?" Quinn leans into Santana's private space and it feels like her skin is scorching as she stares down at her second-in-command, she feels heat rush to her neck when brown eyes wander.

Pettiness was second nature to her by now considering how the two of them were the peas of the same pod and together twenty-four-seven due to Cheerios practice. They were bound to rub off on one another. It was _exhausting_ , but there were moments, very memorable moments that she'd like to keep to herself because she'd only remember the worse parts of it the most. There's always an exception though. In moments like these, she enjoys the sick banter between the two of them, igniting each other until the other one blows up like a brazen bull and their screams whistling from within are the only sounds that haunt them.

It's not like her pettiness wasn't warranted. Santana deserved it. And she knows that Santana knows that she deserves it. _Let her ungratefulness go up in smoke!_ But that thought fades when the brunette inhales sharply and draws closer into the flame they had teamed together. "Careful, Fabray. I'm not the only stickler for cherry."

At that, Quinn swallows.

Brittany cuts between them, delicate but firm hands pressing them apart by the chest. Almost in sync, the brunette and the blonde glance down at the interruption, but it’s no longer classified as an interruption when they notice that it's their taller companion. 

"Stooooop. I said no more arguing." The dancer drops her hands to brush back the bangs that have fallen by her eyes.

"B, we're not arguing."

"We were having friendly banter."

"Yeah! What Barbie said."

The more innocent one of the three rolls her eyes in exasperation. "And the _lying_. Good gosh." The blonde walks back to her locker shaking her head, just about done with the entire thing, and mutters under her breath, " _Sexual tension. Idiots._ " 

Quinn lets out a groan when Lord Tubbington decides to settle himself onto her torso with a big plop. "I thought cats are supposed to be graceful." The cat's only response is to take one good peek at her before drawling out a _mrowwwww_ and shifting his head onto her chest.

"They should be. But Lord T is just another kind of special." Brittany grins from beside her, eyes shining at her furry associate. "Aren't cha, big guy?" The ball of fur grumbles from his throne, burying himself as if he was embarrassed by his mother's coos. 

Quinn watches the interaction with interest, but wholly aware of the other body's closeness to her with an elbow propped up and a toned thigh gaping back at her from under the glorious skirt that had no doubt been made by a raging pervert. That train of thought gets quashed, her sense of virtue catching up to her rather quickly, fingers raising to twiddle with the cross that the feline had surprisingly left alone. 

_Go on, Juicy Lucy. Show dear old mom and dad how shameful you are._

_Shut up, Frannie._

_What about that Kenai gal, huh, kid? She's been ignoring you for that school crazy. Pepper._

_I don't care. I don't like her in that way._

_Oho, really?! So . . . you sitting at that stupid park was just you getting a kick out of waiting for absolutely nothing to show up? Puh-lease! I know you better than that, little sis._

_You know nothing._

_I know that you like staring at Santana, that you like staring at Brittany like the sick degenerate that you are. What about those other girls on the team? What about Berry-Berry? Still waiting for the right moment to confess or waiting for her to just hate you even more than she does? And I have to applaud that, Lucy._ Quinn can imagine her, standing up obnoxiously and slapping her palms together like a deranged sealion. _Cheers to becoming little miss bitch! You are pathetic. At least I earned my title with love-_

_Love? Don't make me barf. You're a manipulative skeeve._

_We're one and the same, Lulu. When are you going to get the picture?_

"Quinn?"

Blinking rapidly, the blonde realizes that Brittany has moved to a seated position on her knees with her hands in her lap, concern written all over her face.

"Talk to me." The tone was soft, so soft, that it has Quinn reeling a bit. "What's eating at you?"

The head cheerleader shakes her head, looking away, fearing that she might just spill everything, including the apprehension in her gut. She can't tell her. However, she did promise the taller girl that she would stop lying. And it was a promise that she'd keep. So she scans her mind, a reason that she could use that was true but not exactly problematic for her in any shape or form. Might as well take the easy way out.

"There's this person that I met a few days ago."

"Ooooh. Sounds interesting."

Breathing out a laugh, the shorter blonde continues, "Let's call this person Dumbo. And no, she's not dumb."

"Cute." The dancer grins at her with approval. "So it's a _she_ and it's a smart she."

Quinn winces, forgetting to forgo the pronouns. "Yes, it's a she. When we met I was not in the best mood and Dumbo was there and she even gave me her hanky."

"Okay, that sounds cute. She's like your knight in shining armor!" Exclaiming, Brittany bounces in her spot with the giddiness of a child. "Then what? Are you guys friends now? Did you get her number?"

Taking a moment, the blonde sits up, setting down Tubbington who had fallen asleep in her arms. "That's the thing. She's been ignoring me . . . not ignoring me, per se, but she doesn't reach out."

Brittany stares at her, unblinkingly and unmovingly. With purpose, she tries to think about who this person could be. "So that's what's nagging you? You want Dumbo to make the first move?"

The hazel-eyed girl flushes at the wording. "No, don't say it like that. I'm dating Finn, B. And I'm not g- interested in girls. I just . . . I think she’s a person that I’d want on my side.”

Suddenly, it feels as though she was being inspected in the military, being scrutinized and measured for inaccuracy. It was a rare occasion for the taller blonde to yell, but if that were the case she'd be running home. It was something she wouldn't want to experience. Ever. You’d have to have some kind of grudge against the world to want to anger the purest person alive.

"She seems interesting enough if it has you flying off into space."

There's a pregnant pause.

"Can I be honest with you?"

Tilting her head, the question has the head Cheerio blinking, her thought process running a mile, wondering (nail-biting) where this could be headed. "Yeah, of course."

"Why are you with him?" The blonde shifts, seemingly more focused on adjusting her legs into a crisscrossed position rather than the fat elephant in the room with balloons tied to its trunk. "I might be dopey sometimes-"

"No, no, no. You're not a dope, Britt." Quinn rushes. There was no way she was going to let the blonde think that about herself.

Brittany licks her, smiling right after, appreciative, before continuing down the path she was heading towards, "To most people I am. What I'm trying to tell you is that you should see by now that being with Finn isn't something that you want."

Quinn should be protesting, defending herself, and should be feeling insulted that Brittany, friend or not, was doubting her relationship, her ability to be decisive. But she's not one of those girls. "What makes you say that?" She finds herself asking, sober.

Blue shining brightly back at her, the blonde places a hand on the other girl's, giving Quinn a sense of deja vu. "Don't you think you should've been with Finn right then and there? That you should've been with him so that he could cheer you up?"

That was something that Quinn had always admired about the taller blonde, that she could know things before you even knew them. But it was also something that would catch her off guard from time to time, blindsiding her like a car crash. Brittany had pointed it out, pointed out something that she had not wanted to acknowledge. It was a touchy subject that she wasn’t prepared to confront yet. With this piercing blow to her emotional walls, she lets her eyes flicker away from blue, busying herself with how Lord Tubbington breathes, his stomach expanding and shrinking.

"Quinn." Brittany tightens her grip on her captain's hand, feeling the pressure of a cinder block on her chest and the emotions rushing around her head. She was for sure going to have a headache later. That was trivial though; that would be manageable, right now she had to even this out, make Quinn feel less vulnerable. "This is like Homer Simpson and Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief."

"What stage would I be in?" Her fences had lowered, if for just a moment, yet she could feel them threatening to shut, finding this part of the conversation much more difficult to grit her teeth through. 

As if sensing this crack in her resolve, the blonde falters, suspecting the worst was bound to come, but honesty was necessary and she admits, it was one of her faults.

"D-Denial."

The air around them no longer held the warmth that Quinn had wished to soak in. Now, it just felt awkward, an emotion that she hadn't felt for a long time since she had become friends with the girl. Unable to respond, the only logical way (flawed way) to approach this was not to approach it at all. 

"It's getting late. I should go." Quinn hastily slides off the bed, doing a pretty crap job at hiding her discomfort and shoves her feet into her white trainers. 

"No. You _want_ to go. It doesn't mean that you should." Realizing that she cannot persuade the girl any longer, Brittany shuffles off the bed as well, standing in front of her stiff guest. _I don't want you to go_ is what she wants to add, but she keeps her mouth shut. 

Blinking three times, Quinn doesn't respond and dips her chin down. 

Brittany watches her rush out of the room. She listens closely to the feet padding down the stairs and she emits a long, deep breath when she hears the door shut. "Good job, Britt." She snarks at herself, patting her shoulder with a heavy hand. "Whoop-de-doo." The blonde slams her back onto her bed, mindful of the small occupant that remains in his slumber, probably dreaming as his hind leg twitches.

"Tanny?"

The tiny voice has Brittany lifting her head, double chin coming out. Blue eyes watch as the seven-year-old girl ambles over, jumping onto her bed and leaning against the frame. It was like looking at a mirror if she were that age again.

"You made her sad."

Sniffling, Brittany rubs her hands over her face, regretful. "I know, Penny. Don't rub it in."

"Mommy told you not to overdo it, but you still don't listen." Penny looks at her sadly and it certainly doesn't help Brittany get out of her sad hole; it only worsens it, digging that gloomy hole a tad deeper. "You shouldn't rely so much on your powers. It’s cheating like in a video game.”

"If I don't test it out how am I supposed to get better?"

"She never said anything about not practicing, but she did say to not be obvious."

Brittany rolls her head to the side, eyes teary. Opening her arms, she beckons her sister closer, "Come 'ere, squirt. I need a hug and you better deliver."

Penny doesn't have to be told twice and leaps over Lord Tubbington, landing in her older sister's arms who starts quaking. The child stays silent this time, understanding that silence at that moment was severely needed.

**_September 10, 2009 | Thursday_ **

Checking behind her, Quinn blinks to herself suspiciously before turning around again, feeling eyes burning into her butt once she did. Shaking her head, she resumes her watch over Finn, pondering about what a particular blonde had told her yesterday. Life has truly taken a toll on her and even if she was the HBIC of the entire school, the real HBIC was _existence_ , running over each and everyone once they were birthed. 

With a glare, her eyes tighten into slits, watching the quarterback slobber all over himself as her team runs passed him on the track with Brittany leading the pack effortlessly. She exhales rigidly, still upset by the truth. 

There's shuffling behind her and the blonde rolls her eyes, lips pursing even more. "I think you've enjoyed the view long enough."

"What view? I only see a pile o' white trash that's blockin' my way." 

Irritated, the blonde swivels, fixing the girl one of her steely gazes. "Can you contain yourself today? _Thanks_." With faux gratitude, Quinn throws Santana a toothy grin that falls flat.

"Sheesh. You needa unlodge your head from your ass. Newsflash! If you don't get it unstuck you'll start eating your crap." Santana shakes her head, casually checking her nails for any scrapes.

  
Scowling, Quinn balls her hands into fists. _Calm. Be cool, be cool. She’s just trying to get into your head, Fabray._ The job of a Head Cheerio came with stress and keeping her girls in check. If she were to show anything other than malice or levelheadedness just call in the sharks. To feel was to willingly drop yourself into open water with chum strung around your limbs.

”Trying to one-up me in language, San? Don’t even pretend that I didn’t see you reading that thesaurus when I came in this morning.”

Nose twitching as if drawing up into a scowl, it freezes, relaxing back into amused indifference. “What so wrong with educating myself? Just admit that you feel threatened by me being here.”

”Threatened?” Quinn quirks up that monumental brow. “I think you should get yourself checked out if you believe that for one second that _I_ could ever let myself feel vulnerable around _you_.” With her chin raised, she lifts both her brows once, badgering.

The shorter girl lets out a breath of disbelief before she’s all out laughing. “Maybe we should get both our heads checked if you don’t remember that sweet little visit that we made to the lake during cheer camp.” Her gaze, goading, screwing with her head, and playing those mind games that she knew too well.

Heart thumping in her chest like a tribal drum, Quinn’s tongue is caught in her throat.

Checkmate.

”Maybe I should remind you how you followed me into the water. The moon awake and another set of it in my hands.” Santana smirks, cruel as it may be, but guilty, caught red-handed for her coquettishness. As another ploy she moves her hands, rubbing them deliberately that the blonde can't help but look.

Quinn is suddenly in front of her, face red and high strung. _I am five seconds away from blowing up._ Instead of those words, she checks herself again before she does something tragic and by tragic, she means giving Santana a handful of her palm. And it would _so_ easy. But then she was so near, very tangible, that she could smell the distinct scent of lavender wafting through the air. The heavenly fragrance is enough to make Quinn remember, lips tingling, achingly sensitive. This was by far a lowly comparison to the last time they had been centimeters away from one another, face to face, expressions so easy to explicate, leaving no room for immunity.

  
“Need I remind you of how you came onto me first after I found you blubbering.” Scoffing, Quinn puts on her mask as though she could magically get rid of the turmoil. “You just like having something over people. That’s your problem. Not a single good bone in your body, not even in your pinky.”

”And you are?!”

Quinn smiles when Santana’s voice level increases, she’ll take _any_ win and she broke first.

”I know I’m not, but I’m good enough to understand that there are boundaries that don’t need to be mentioned. I know that there are lines that cannot be muddled.”

”You and your stupid vocabulary.”

Rolling her eyes at the other girl’s childish antics she gives in, she can’t always hold back. There was a reason why she’s the HBIC. Just because she’s been told that she looks like an angel it doesn’t mean she can’t be unholy despite the contradiction that hangs around her neck.

”See? That right there is where your problem lies. It’s probably why Brittany won’t give you a second glance after you think you’ve had your way with her. You know why? Because she knows deep down that that fragile little ego of yours is too damaged to ever love anyone other than yourself. Newsflash!” Quinn’s face twists into a snarl, pink lips pulling back. “You. Use. People.” She shoves her finger into Santana’s chest with each word. “Then you spit them back out when you can’t use them anymore.”

Santana doesn’t reply, letting the organized commotion from the field play over them. Her eyes shine and Quinn realizes that she slipped. Too much.

”I may not know a lotta synonyms, but I know how much of a fucking hypocrite you are. You use Finn. But you dare to claim that _I_ used you? Bitch, please. We used each other. You were profiting from it too.” Santana digs her finger into Quinn’s chest, poking her so hard that she stumbles a bit.

“You said that I spit people back out when I have no use for them?” 

Santana steps in, their noses inches apart.

”You’re right about one thing.”

Lavender.

“You’re scrap.”

There was that familiar hotness again, ensnaring their bodies that had been perfected by the severe drills that both of them had gotten used to. They were the top dogs. But they were so much more sophisticated than that. When others would clash teeth, they would swap words. When others would scratch recklessly, they would sink their claws into one another after meticulous deliberation and critical analysis. But the hotness? There was something inexplicable about it, a sort of uncontrollable need that refused to perish. The warmth and intensity would sometimes become unbearable that one of them would _have_ to shatter. And shatter it went. Sometimes became all the time. All the time made one snap, that's all it had to take. 

Santana side-eyes the field, before squaring on the gigantic oaf with a number five on his back. 

Like a mirror, Quinn follows, chest unbelievably compressed, biting the inside of her mouth when she sees Finn wallowing in attention from the baby Cheerios, going so far as to let his hand paw around a bony backside. She doesn’t find herself giving a damn.

"You can storm on over there," the brunette starts, giving Quinn her full attention, voice doing that _thing_ where it gets hoarse. "And give him _hell_ while everyone on that field looks at you like you've gone crazy." There's a pause that gnaws on the blonde's patience and Quinn gets the idea that Santana's waiting for her to bite the end of the hook even after everything they’ve said to one another, contempt or a smidge of something else that was much more terrifying than she'd care to admit.

"Or?"

The coyness that follows has the blonde straightening her spine, eyes flickering to places where friends, _or whatever they were_ , definitely did not look at.

_”_ Or you can try your luck at a two-time thing.”

Watching with a darkened gaze, Quinn gladly consumes the sight of Santana peeking up at her from under the edge of her skirt, her fleshy thigh flush over a tan shoulder and her calf locking the girl into place as if the other girl wasn't already addicted to her taste. Her movements were slow and firm, a particular detail that the blonde would rather focus on rather than the circumstances that they were currently in, namely the mop bucket in the corner that would squeak each time Santana would knock her shoe against it or the sharp shelves that would dig into Quinn's back or the smell of disinfectant supplies. It didn't matter a bit.

Legs trembling endlessly, her eyes snap shut feeling with her walls, tightening and throbbing, and the torturous way that Santana curls her tongue from inside her. The whimper that escapes her is from the agony that fizzes within the depths of her midriff and she scrunches her brows, feeling her slickness drip. Like a champ, the brunette swills it, balmy hands clamping around Quinn's elevated thigh and the other tickling the expanse of her vertical stance, putting multiple fragments in the blonde's already trembling form. Being the trifling bitch that she was she ignores the bud that it has the head Cheerio wanting to pull her hair out of her head.

Focusing on the hands that were practically digging into her skin, she suddenly lurches forward when Santana arrives at that point with the angling of her wet organ. Quinn couldn't overlook the pounding in her chest and the way she was trembling like a leaf. She was ready to break. For her. Again. And it's at that moment that Quinn's head decides to intrude as she looks down at the brown-eyed girl who has closed her eyes. Remembering everything she wasn't supposed to at that exact instant, she hears the words, ringing angrily in her ears.

_"We aren't gay, Quinn. You're just another warm body for me to steal heat from."_

It had been during cheer camp as Santana had spoken earlier; they had begun this during the summer break between freshmen and sophomore year. It had all started because of what she couldn't have and what Santana couldn't have. 

No matter how many times she told herself, her feelings would always run back to tackle her and it came in that tiny form wrapped inside a bundle of musical notes. The same could be said for the girl that was currently lending her a tongue. Brittany had had a fling with one of those meatheaded boys and it turned Santana into that sniveling mess in their shared cabin. 

She remembers the way Santana had looked at her when her eyes started looking differently with renounced lenses, deceiving her. The brunette had frozen before rearing up and throwing that insensitive crap in her face. She had been rejected, blinded by the momentary binds of passion and desperation for an opportunity to be herself. Talk about U-hauling.

Pitiful.

It's gone now. Mood desolated, she pushes Santana away who at first gives her a confused look, slightly dazed as if she had forced herself not to breathe to get every piece of silver she could acquire. Then anger.

"The fuck is wrong with you? Like ruining everything good in your life?!"

Quinn huffs, ears still burning, pulling up her underwear and spanks only to wince feeling the annoying discomfort between her thighs. "You're the very definition of everything that's _not_ good."

Pissed, the Latina kicks the bucket behind her, the mop inside it dropping forward onto the floor with a clack. Eyes bulging to the brim with hostility and the cords in her neck rigid, Santana forces her head through her shirt, adjusting it harshly. "That's not what it sounded like a few seconds ago." She snaps, scowling terribly.

The blonde matches her. "Yeah? Well, this was a mistake. Don't worry, it'll never happen again."

Santana crosses her arms, seeing right through her. "You'll come running."

"I won't," Quinn assures her and her words are her honor and Santana recognizes this and flinches. Underwear still slick, she lifts her hands to secure her pony, eyes cold like ice. She stares at Santana's face, jaw tight and guts still tight with frustration. There's a new body of law between them now and principles that she would die with.

No more.

Quinn slams the door in her face before striding the mass of the hallway with the intent to make that bony little brat run until she's crawling across the field.

_That evening . . ._

Thankfully her parents were off visiting her father's business partner for dinner. Unfortunately-

"Think of the mail. Think of the mail! _Think of the mail!_ "

Minutes later, Quinn is standing at the doorway with Finn looking at anywhere but her in a fresh set of clothes and a beach towel around his neck. "I'm sorry about that. You were just really good with your mouth."

Shoving the urge to roll her eyes, the blonde smiles, but mind drifting to the jacuzzi and how the simple act of kissing was enough to make her boyfriend climax. "Thanks." Tone clipped. "I'll see you tomorrow." Quinn leaves it at that, placing a kiss on her palm before patting Finn on the cheek, the touch holding a lot more heaviness than the boy had expected, causing his head to pitch to the right with each swat. 

"Uh okay, love ya." Finn hides his wince behind a puzzled smile, hands tugging on each side of the towel.

"You too!" Quinn shuts the door, finding it unsatisfying when she does it gently (out of courtesy) when she'd like nothing more than to rip it open and fling it with more impact.

Feeling freer than ever, she strolls her way to the kitchen, opening the cabinets to see what she can smuggle up to her room. At the very last one beside the wine rack, she narrows her eyes at the green post-it note that's stuck to a package of Oreos. 

**_Lay off the junk food, Lucy!_ **

Snatching the stupid thing, Quinn shreds it up, hurling the remains in the trash. Face pinched, she seizes the neck of a bottle and stomps up to her room, flinging herself onto her bed. With urgency, her fingers stutter over the red cover, short fingernails attempting to rip open the trivial piece of decoration when all she wants is to guzzle away her sorrows. Hopeless, she tosses the bottle only to spring from her spot to stop it from tumbling to its doom against the wooden floorboards.

Lips trembling on their own accord, she pulls the wine to her chest as she lays against her pillow, chest heavy until her shoulders begin shaking, squeezing the substantial bubble in her rib cage. A drop streams down her cheek, sliding far until it's in her ear, but she doesn't notice. Not for a while at least. When she does she shakes her head, eyes shutting, remembering that her contacts are still on. Unable to stay motionless, she sits up against her headboard, pillow folding up that it feels weird on her butt. Huffing, she turns around, lifting the cushion to fluff it, but something catches her eye.

It stood out compared to her flowery sheets.

Waterworks halting, she takes it into her hand, flattening it against her palm until she can no longer see her skin. With the light object on the surface of her hand, she traces an anchor at the center, a replica of the rest. Using the tip of her pinky, she coasts it over the smooth fabric before her entire hand drifts underneath, directing it upward until her nose is submerged, her sense of smell taking over to relish divineness.

The hanky smelt of fresh laundry and roses and something else that she couldn't quite place. 

Hands tightening, but careful not to wrinkle, Quinn evens her spine against the headboard, drawing her knees to her chest, but most importantly eyes glued to the cloth that does not belong to her. 

Turquoise.

**_September 11, 2009 | Friday_ **

Curiosity getting the better of her, she stalks after Santana even if it seems as though she's breaking her vow. She's not. It was worse that day. Not only was she having conflicts with her number three, but she was also having problems with number two. And Finn? Ugh. He was still acting like a kicked puppy after his accident from yesterday and she was trying really hard to avoid his fragile masculinity as best as she could. 

Getting sidetracked by JBI roaming the hall she stuffs herself in a corner; hazel eyes follow the bush on his head, watching as he skids to a halt, almost tripping over himself before running in the opposite direction, one of the mulletheads on the hockey team lumbering after him with a cup of Big Quench in his hand. Lip curling up, she pushes off the wall. 

"Camina mas rapido." ( _Walk faster.)_ As far as Quinn can remember there were only about ten people in the entire school that she knew were Latino or Hispanic; this voice doesn't sound familiar, it was raspy yet the manner it had been said in was soft and doting. Maybe she should've signed up for Spanish instead of French.

" _¿Por qué?" (Why?)_ The voice is whiny and Quinn struggles to figure out what the first person said.

"Because kung hindi mo bilisan baka mabasa pa tayo. Vamonos." _(If we don't hurry up we could get drenched. Let's go.)_

Her brows scrunch together because _what?_ That was like three different languages in one sentence. The blonde slides in closer to the wall, having a strong feeling that whoever these two girls were they were walking in her direction.

But then it registers in her head just how silly this looks.

_Her_.

The head Cheerio.

Hiding.

What kind of-

Her gut is right for warning her.

Her brows twitch up in surprise. She doesn't remember her voice sounding like that but then again it probably had to do with the change in dialect.

Kenai Talamantes proceeds passed her, long and shiny dark hair up in a ponytail that was neither messy nor tight. The glasses hang low on her tan complexion and her arm is around a shorter girl with fairer skin, neck wrapped in a headlock. The smell that the oblivious girl leaves behind is the fresh laundry tang that she had gotten a selfish whiff of, indulging.

By their closeness, she had trouble deciphering if the girl under her arm was the sister or not.

Forgetting about what she had been doing she slinks on after them, watching their interaction closely. She hides behind the wall, peeking a quarter of her face so that one eye could remain observant.

She tilts her head, noticing the aggressiveness between them that only siblings would share, especially how the shorter one just shoved her sister's head that it has Kenai's neck folding and her body swerving to the side. The abruptness has the spectacled girl catching herself before hitting the set of lockers beside her. As if knowing that there would be retaliation, the fair-skinned teen bolts off with the taller one racing after her with ease, knee shooting up. The girl, Echo, she remembers now, has her hands flying to her bottom, the sound of her pain bouncing down the hallway.

Eyes crinkling, the perimeter of her mouth expands faintly before she solely regards the expanse of Kenai's back until she disappears into another hall. 

* * *

**September 11, 2009 | Friday**

Less than two feet away, her eyes take in the adorable dinosaurs that fan out all over the girl's pajama bottoms before noticing the gauze wrapped around tan hands.

Noticing this attention, Kenai fidgets with herself while glancing in her direction, a bit offended by this scrutiny before doing a double-take, eyes blinking back with nostalgia when she focuses on the object in Quinn's hands.

The blonde suddenly reddens when coming to a realization, she hides the paperback on the bench beside her where Kenai can't reach, embarrassment making her turn the book over so that you could see the barcode and the red boxcar. There's an urge to explain herself, that her reading level was much higher, that she usually reads books written by Virginia Woolf or Jane Austen. Statement ready on her mouth, she falters when she discovers that warm brown eyes are already staring back at her, willingly, but hunch still present in her spine.

These eyes flicker down; naturally, she goes along with this newfound openness and looks back at the yellow cover.

"Boxcar children." The tone held that same subduedness when they had first met on the weekend. "Read to me?" Quinn watches as Kenai seems to fall into an awkward demeanor and slouches lower, uncertainty suddenly pervading the bubble that's encompassing her being. The openness that had made an appearance a while ago deflating like a balloon, falling into her lap in a heap of disappointment.

Not quite understanding this change in the atmosphere but easily moved by the girl's frown, she answers, "Only if you stop hunching," eyes stuck to the curve that leans on the bench. 

Mouth slightly parting, Kenai's dark brows crease before her spine is righting itself, hands lifting, stiff in its confinements, squirming undecidedly in the air before falling back over her lap in the same position. Head still ducked a bit, her gaze is jittery, unable to meet her eyes for more than a second.

Rubbing her own hands together, the blonde studies her posture a little longer before picking up the light paperback. The Boxcar Children Mysteries. #23. The Old Motel Mystery. "Ever read this before?"

Kenai shakes her head.

"Neither have I."

Not knowing what else to say, she angles the book up in her left hand, showing the cover picture of a young boy reaching into a pool for the oranges that have dropped in and are now floating on the surface. The bespectacled teen leans in, checking out the image before nodding, slanting back into her original spot, shoulders stiff and leg bouncing repeatedly. 

Quinn, mistaking this for impatience, asks for the time.

"5:42."

The blonde hums.

"You don't have to read to me if you have somewhere important to be." 

Straining her ears to hear, she shakes her head right after. "No, I'm good. Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

Kenai shakes her head again, licking her lips, unknowingly drawing eyes. "No."

With absolute regard to that single syllable, she makes herself comfortable on the seat and clears her throat, opening the book, ears aware of the crinkling that it makes with each turn as she gets to page one.

"Chapter one. The old motel. Aunt Jane and the four Alden children, Violet, Benny, Henry and Jessie . . . "

As time went on the two girls have moved closer to one another (the blonde mostly responsible for this), Quinn's left thigh folded atop the bench while her elbow leaned on the backrest, showing Kenai the illustrations whenever they'd show up and Kenai hurrying to scan the page as to not waste the blonde's time, feeling like she was being a burden, but she couldn't deny that this was relaxing despite her trying to keep her spine as straight as possible, very uncomfortable with the correct posture. The blonde would sometimes lose her place when she'd glance over to spy on the other girl, who would smile once in a while when Benny would say something particularly amusing; then, the spectacled teen would notice, telling the girl exactly where she had left off.

In forty-one minutes, they had finished the book. Now 6:23, Quinn watches as Kenai rises to her feet, stuttering over herself, "Thank you. I - you read well."

"Thank you. You're good at paying attention."

An unsure noise sounds in the back of the dark-haired girl's throat. "Not so sure about that, but thanks."

Kenai remains standing in front of her, bandaged hands tapping on the outer parts of her leg and in response, Quinn is peeking up at her from under her lashes, an enigmatic smile on her lips. 

"Um . . . well, thank you again. You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to."

The corner of Kenai's lip twitches into a smile and she nods her head once. "I guess I'll see you at school then."

"Yeah, you too."

. . .

Quinn's smile widens when the girl doesn't move. She looks down, sucking in her lips for a bit before connecting with Kenai once more. 

Kenai nods again, ears going red, finger pushing her glasses up.

"Bye, Fabray."

She turns on her heel, slouch form- it's gone. Kenai squares her shoulders, remembering.

"Bye, Tally."

The tan girl falters, turning her head, eyes widening with surprise. "You know my- um, never mind. Have a good evening!"

The blonde shakes her head watching the other teen dart away, zooming across the field until she's just a line of black. Breathing out a laugh, Quinn moves her thumb across the cover, the weight across her shoulders nonexistent.

"Gertrude Chandler Warner, you're truly a delight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was FUN!!! My neck and shoulders hurt. I just realized how much easier it is to write in Kenai's head than Quinn's. *big sigh* I spent five days writing from a different POV. I'm spent!
> 
> Am I putting enough dialogue and thoughts? Is it balanced enough? Are the scenes between family, friends, and potential lovers balanced? Please comment for constructive criticism. I need guidance! SHOW ME THE LIGHT!!!
> 
> Be thorough, I might update faster, but not THAT fast cuz I have a lot of stuff to type, ya know?


	5. Absolutely Astonishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts from Season 1 x Episode 1 (aka Pilot) will show up
> 
> BS brought to you by the Talamantes siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves from behind computer*
> 
> Sorry if I took so long. I had a bunch of work from school and the grading system changed so I have more obligations that need taking care of. I think you can expect a chapter from me every 1–3 weeks???
> 
> Disclaimer: Some parts are inspired by Ice Age: Continental Drift
> 
> Word Count: 7,572
> 
> Posted On: 5/10/2020

_"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."_

_\- Charles Frédéric Dubois_

* * *

The vanity reflects the eyes of a blonde — staring — yet she focuses on absolutely nothing if nothing were to exist. She was very much lost in thought as she glides her fingers down her sleek tresses, strands tickling the skin of her velvety digits. Of course, there wasn't any significant purpose to this as she had combed her hair minutes ago, but with the mind quite preoccupied her hands linger on autopilot, apparently her self conscious was dissatisfied with how her hair turned out.

"Quinnie, could you be a doll and come here please?"

Pale fingers halt before they're sliding across the patterned knots of the cross's chain until they reach the holy pendant, shimmering against the light in her room. Tapping it once, Quinn stands from her seat and follows her mother's voice down the hall and into her parent's bedroom where the older woman had just finished applying a fresh coat of makeup.

Patiently, she stands beside the door with her hands clasped together as her eyes take in her attire for Sunday mass, from the buttons of her white cardigan to the light blues of her dress, which she's certain will cover her knees when she sits. This was ironic considering the length of the Cheerio uniform. You could see everything. Without needing to look in the mirror again, Quinn knows that her sky blue headband is in place, not a wisp of hair scruffed.

"Do me a favor and step on the scale in my bathroom."

Freezing in her spot, Quinn feels an uncomfortable drop in the underlinings of her stomach.

"Why?"

"I'm helping you, Quinn." Smoothing out her sky blue dress, the Fabray matriarch simply smiles back at her daughter as if what she just said wasn't causing a dent in her mentality. "I've been noticing that you're slacking off, especially the other night with the bubbly. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you've been sneaking Oreos at night as well. It's for your welfare, sweetie. Besides, you don't want to end up looking paunchy again, do you?"

"I wasn't sneaking—"

"Right." Judy winks at the younger blonde before gesturing to the open door where light streams out of the grand lavatory.

With the familiar warmth spreading over her eyes, Quinn blinks rapidly before she ends up in tears. Squaring her shoulders, she advances towards the washroom, chin held high, not oblivious to her mother following her. Normally, she'd take out the small objects in her pockets before these types of examinations, but she was confident. She worked her butt off to achieve where she was in the world and she was not going to let her mother sully her accomplishments. She steps onto the scale, eyes steady on Judy's form as she bows down to inspect the device.

"One-seventeen." Judy doesn't bother to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Like always."

The older woman winces. "Well not always but—“ Instead of finishing her thought, her mother pats her on the back. "Good job, sweetie." 

Quinn smiles back at her with her teeth clenched behind her mouth.

Once Judy turns away her smile drops and her head tilts downward, eyes on the ground. "Yeah. Good job." She whispers to herself, sniffling quietly. Breathing in a shuddering breath, Quinn waits for a bit, composing herself before stepping out the threshold.

There was another thing that the Fabrays valued aside from their image. Punctuality. Because of this particular trait, the Fabrays have always been at the very front when it came to Sunday mass. Not the row in the middle that's smack dab in front of the priest since her father didn't want to look like an asskisser. Her family always sat at the very first pew of the left column to show that they were devout, which was ultimately better than being a devout asskisser.

Feeling her bladder calling out to her, she taps her father's arm who mouths along with the priest for Sunday's readings. "I have to go to the washroom real quick."

Judy leans forward a bit from the other side of her husband, side-eyeing her. "Can you wait until after?"

"Oh, hush, Judy." Russell Fabray softly rebukes before turning to his daughter who motions with the angling of his head. "Hurry back."

Quinn smiles at him gratefully before rushing off to the sidelines, ignoring how her mother glares at her father. Careful not to draw attention to herself, she speedwalks to the church's facility, coming to a corner before pulling the door handle, only to discover that it's locked. Huffing, the blonde crosses her arms, waiting for the person inside to finish as the priest's voice echos into the corner as a dulled timbre. Quinn shifts her weight from one foot to the other, feeling the discomfort in her bladder increase. 

_God, help me, I need to pee._

Hearing the familiar sounds of a toilet flushing, Quinn backs away from the door when the hand dryer turns off from within the room. Brazenly, the hazel-eyed teen watches as the person about her height steps out and her jaw nearly drops when she realizes that that person is—

"Tally?"

The ebony-haired girl looks up from her hunched path, glasses lowering with a jolt that it has her pushing them up, the gauze around her hand slightly damp. "Fabray?" When their eyes finally connect, Kenai's spine shoots into a rigid line, standing with her shoulders pulled back. 

Quinn hums, lips curling into a smile, noting how the girl is taller than she looks. Maybe an inch or so, the blonde figures, now that they were standing foot to foot. Good posture _does_ make a big difference.

That wasn't the only difference that she was seeing as she scans the rest of her. For once, the tan girl's hair wasn't in a ponytail; instead, it was spilled over her left shoulder all the way passed her breast, thick and lush with her bangs almost the length of the rest of her hair, a wavy part threatening to cover her left eye. Not only that, but she seemed a lot brighter. Quinn was accustomed to seeing Kenai Talamantes in dark clothing, be it the shirt, the pants, the shoes — _everything_ she wore was dark. But here she was in an olive green canvas overshirt that was left unbuttoned, revealing a white crewneck tee. 

"You look _different_." Quinn continues her evaluation, her stare undeterred even as she realizes a bit late that she’s being outwardly appreciative.

Kenai's eyes dart unsurely. "Like in a . . . good way?"

"Definitely."

"Thank you." Kenai ducks her head. "Um, sorry if I took long." The taller girl points her thumb over her shoulder, flicking her eyes over to the washroom before she's moving, opening the door for the blonde.

Quinn thanks her and gets a hum in return before walking into the room as her palm catches the door, watching Kenai stroll away, " _Wait! Kenai!_ " She stage-whispers, bladder forgotten.

Turning her head rather quickly, the girl waits with expectancy.

"419-xxx-xxxx."

Brow furrowing, Kenai takes a step forward.

"Huh?"

"That's my number." She clarifies, cheeks suddenly feeling warm and heart hammering against her chest. "Text me if you can come to the playground later." The hazel-eyed girl throws in a single-shouldered shrug, not knowing what to do with herself as she offers a shaky smile which was certainly out of character for her. She worked so hard to boost her confidence from the depths of loserville and she was _anxious_ over giving someone her phone number. Wow, was she getting soft?

Kenai blinks at her.

Quinn blinks back, the corners of her mouth smoothing into a line.

It takes a moment, but the tan girl beams, eyes becoming small in the process which has the blonde thinking humorously that Kenai's eyes are smiling along with her. "Yeah. Sure. Can you repeat that one more time?" The taller teen pulls out her phone from the breast pocket of her overshirt after fumbling with the button. 

After they exchange numbers, the blonde locks the door before rushing to the can, sighing when her bladder feels less full.

Later in the afternoon, the blonde finds herself walking across the playground set and up the tiny staircase that was made for pubescent little children. Brushing her dress over her rear, the girl is careful to sit on the platform, letting her legs dangle over the edge as she uses the fireman pole to steady herself. Crossing her ankles together, she turns her attention to the bespectacled girl, hair no longer cascading over her shoulder but in its usual pony.

"Sit up." She tells Kenai softly, patting the expanse of her lower back until the girl is doing just that, the corner of her lip twitching at her sheepishly before leaning her head against a yellow column.

They don't talk at all after that. Together they watch their surroundings. They watch the leaves rustle against the inconsistent wind, they watch the miniature wind turbine circle around from red to green, they watch a few cars drive by, they watch everything. They hear the birds chirping a brilliant tune, they can hear the radio blasting from inside a home nearby, they hear a dog barking from across the street.

Normally, silences that lasted way longer than three minutes in the presence of others were unbearable, but here she was, rather fond of these instances that they share. Somehow, sitting in the hush and to be in peace with Kenai felt so much better compared to Finn's half-baked attempts at a meaningful conversation.

Except there was a constant rattle by her ears. Would they still act the same at school? This question leaves her bothered. She admits, she has finally found someone who treats her like she isn't a pariah - an outcast or an untouchable. When they had first met she was just Quinn. And yes, when they had stumbled upon each other on Friday and had finished that book to its last word she could tell that the girl was a bit afraid of her because of her uniform. But earlier? Things were changing, _slowly_ but surely. Kenai was more at ease. She wasn't sure if she wanted it to veer off into an unreachable path — an unpleasant one.

This thought leads her to think about Brittany and her words of wisdom.

_About Kenai!_

Not her . . . not her denial.

Kenai was different in some way, by some means. And she was telling the truth when she said that she wanted Kenai on her side. She could be a friend. Sure, she had Brittany and Santana but they were almost always consumed with one another. _Now_ , with her relationship with them muddled at the moment, she had no clue.

_Phew_. She doesn't know where to begin with that.

But Kenai? She was caring and nice. The handkerchief was one sign. Then she remembers the little song that she heard Ra— RuPaul singing in the bathroom with all her annoying hair supplies and then hearing another voice which had been Kenai. It was a nice and playful sentiment. _Those_ character traits were good enough reasons.

There was something else though that left her mind whirring whenever she thought of the girl. Every time she looked at Kenai there was just that prickling feeling at the back of her head that was telling her to do something about it. It was an unfathomable pull (or maybe it's her imagination) that her instincts had decided to hang on to. With no idea where it was headed, she grips on steadfast.

Ready? 

_Ready._

Quinn can see the gauze. She can see how the shine of the fading sun reveals the true colors in Kenai's hair: A wonderful shade of dark brown. The blonde can hear exhales and inhales. Quinn can smell that wonderful fresh laundry scent, she can smell fresh roses, she can smell something else of the heavenly variety, but she doesn't have it in her to ask. She can feel Kenai's thigh tensing against her own when she forgets her control over it before she's pulling away feeling as though she's overstepped a boundary.

After a moment from their brush, Kenai suddenly twists around, thumbs carefully moving Quinn's dress out of the way as her right leg occupies the space, foot coming to a rest beside her inner thigh, left leg still swinging loosely. The blonde makes her observations as Kenai settles into her new position, back flattening against the column.

The ebony-haired girl lifts her left hand.

The cheerleader eyes the outstretched limb, raising a brow.

With her glasses shielding her eyes, the brown-eyed girl reaches out further and Quinn hesitantly slides her opposite hand into Kenai's, a bit tickled by the thin cloth around tan knuckles. Paying close attention to their joined hands, she watches as Kenai brings her palm to her thumb, forming a fist around it. She feels it tighten around her digit. Mouth parting with a question, her train of thought is delayed when she feels a crack once the bespectacled girl pulls.

Tilting her head, Quinn stares at the other girl who has an impish smirk on her face, looking very pleased with herself.

Kenai pointedly looks down before connecting their gaze again.

Shrugging with her eyebrows, Quinn lets her fingers get cracked and popped. One of the tugs sprouting from a failed attempt so Kenai has to pull out the big guns, leading her hand around in a circular motion until she heaves abruptly, the movement ending with a loud snap from her middle finger to her elbow to her shoulder.

Bursting into a fit of giggles, the cheerleader falls forward into her lap, mind still reeling over how Kenai literally yanked her arm that it cracked most of the major bones in her right limb. 

Chuckling to herself, Kenai continues with her ring finger and pinky before she moves on to her thumb again which the blonde thinks is kind of inefficient. _Couldn't she have just done what she wanted to do in one go?_ The dark-haired girl bends it until only the first knuckle is bowed. This time she's only using her forefinger and thumb. She pulls and it leaves Quinn's jaw hanging in the air as she stares at her opposable finger, getting double snaps. _You can crack it like that?!_

Smirk still spread over her face, Kenai resumes her ministrations, looking proud of herself each time Quinn makes a face.

Before Kenai's departure, she maintains her delicate hold on the shorter girl as she shuffles two fingers into her pocket, digging until her eyes light up and she's pulling out an object that crinkles.

As she does this, Quinn rolls her eyes at a pair of specs before moving her dominant arm over her front, albeit awkwardly with her position on the platform, sliding Kenai's glasses up the nasal bone again, the pad of her middle finger brushing against a warm nose.

The spectacled girl mutters her quiet appreciation for the action, eyes ducked down again before disposing of a tiny package into Quinn's palm. "Bye, Fabray." And with that, the teen stands to her feet before hugging onto the fireman pole, descending as one hand waves goodbye to the blonde.

Amused, she watches as the girl's form dashes underneath the platform through the patterned holes and towards the other side of the playground, the color of green and black sweeping away into a blob once more.

Hearing her stomach growl, the blonde opens her hand to an adorable wrapper with pink endings and red bubble letters that spell out the word P-o-t-c-h-i. She flips it over on its back, scanning the ingredients before she reads its shipment label. Product of the Philippines.

Humming to herself, she plops the gummy into her mouth. Savoring the flavor, she hums. "She has good taste."

* * *

It was lunchtime and Quinn wasn't all that troubled with getting to the cafeteria before the rush hour. She could cut right to the front if she wanted but she had Coach Sylvester's miracle drink and whatever else was in it. Besides, who actually likes the school's lunch?

Turning the hall she catches sight of a familiar figure with her hair tied up into a simple ponytail. Mouth beginning to curve into a smile, Quinn schools her features, rallying in all her stoniness. A passive version of the HBIC if you will. She strides over, hands firm over her hips, and her chin held high.

"Tally." She addresses the girl as she whirls around to the other side where the locker door doesn't block her view.

She goes rigid a second later as she takes in the left side of Kenai's torso, the fabric sticking to her body like a second skin with blue beads slithering down her arm to a darkened gauze wrap. Everything else was dry.

Kenai refuses to acknowledge her arrival and continues searching inside the compartment as her hands tremble, the crook of her back severely apparent.

"Tally." Quinn tries again, glancing around and is glad that no one is paying attention to them. Given the opportunity, she loops her palm around the bespectacled girl's elbow, not minding the stickiness.

The girl squirms at the touch, gently tugging her arm away while turning her body as if it would make Quinn disappear if she couldn't see her.

A little hurt by the silent treatment, the blonde puffs out a breath, moving around the taller teen and knocking the metal door into the one next to it. A childish move, she admits. “ _Tally_." She repeats, voice taking on a slightly harsher tone.

Kenai flinches away, her head turning away and hand gripping a clean shirt as the other one attempts to shut the compartment where the blonde conveniently leans on it.

" _Please move_."

Her grip tightens above the cheerleader's head.

Disregarding the plea she latches a hand around the arm that's marking its territory and she tilts her head to peek under the limb, mask fading away as she pokes through Kenai's bubble.

"Kenai," Quinn says this time in a tender manner that's reserved for Brittany.

Finally, after waiting long, the bespectacled girl lifts her furious gaze from within the locker and directs it at her. The action has Quinn gulping when Kenai's steady eyes connect with hers, fluttering a fraction as they clog up with unshed tears.

She shifts, for once feeling an edge in the atmosphere, that if she'd make a sudden move she'd rupture the bridge that she had been establishing to get to her.

But sometimes, subtlety wasn't an option.

The sight of a Big Quench cup makes her brows scrunch together, even more so when she spots a mark of writing.

And Kenai seems to realize what has her attention because she's bolting for it a second later.

Quinn grabs it.

This time she was the one turning around as Kenai protests with a less somber attitude, her front colliding into the blonde's back as she tries to sneak her arms around her despite the disadvantageous spot.

Unyielding, the blonde clutches onto a warm forearm, holding it away from her as far as she can and struggling much more than she thought she would as the taller girl pushes back with might.

Beyond determined and nosy over the thing in her hand, especially how Kenai is fighting for a _disposable_ cup, Quinn rests her back against the set of lockers behind her, squishing Kenai's other arm in the process while simultaneously realizing that a few stragglers were watching their altercation.

" _Get lost!_ " Quinn growls at them and they all scatter away, realizing they'd be in big trouble if they didn't do what they were told.

Her grip on Kenai instinctually tightens as the taller girl resorts to picking her up with one arm which has the blonde yelping, fumbling with the cup. It takes a good while for her to focus, but she reads it soon enough.

The message leaves a scowl.

**_Don't you just love welcoming gifts, Chappy_ **

**_\- Lopez_ **

Kenai eventually gets a hold of the offensive plastic, ripping it from Quinn's hold before setting her down carefully. A stark contrast to how she was acting earlier. 

The hallways were empty now, class beginning for those who had class during that period. 

Quinn shakes her head angrily, teeth clenching as she glares at the material in Kenai's hand. 

_Santana. Of course!_

Slamming the locker door after putting the dreadful thing in place, Kenai shuts the combination lock, twisting the dial hurriedly until it's at zero. Expecting her to storm away, Quinn is surprised when the tan girl proceeds to tug at the lock. Each time it clinks against the locker's loophole. Not only that, but she presses the crown of her head against the locker, eyes closing shut as she quietly mouths to herself. Straining her ears, the hazel-eyed captain can make out numbers, counting up from one. Curiously, she dips her eyes, noting the bump of her forefinger's first knuckle, whitening from pressure. 

_It seems like this is a usual thing._

The blonde cannot ignore how Kenai has given up trying to hide her vulnerability, tears toiling down her cheeks as the spectacled girl rubs at them with extremeness. Locker finally secure, the girl is on the move, speedwalking away and spine hunched, the very same version of the girl she had met at the playground. Insecure. Powerless. Just like she had been all those years ago. She remembers that weak girl. Lucy. 

No.

Not her.

Not her friend.

. . . if Kenai will consider her one, of course.

Blood boiling, Quinn briskly runs up to her and snatches the nape of her drenched shirt, towing her down the hallway in the opposite direction of the girl's bathroom.

"Fabray! Let me go!"

Quinn marches down the corridor, her grip on Kenai unrelenting even with tan hands prying at her fingers.

She knows how this may look. Quinn Fabray was ushering in a storm and she had found a target to feed the disaster. But this was _odd_. She was not one to participate in physical tormenting. In all actuality, she has only thrown a slushie four times in her lifetime. That was a cleaner slate compared to the other members of the popular crowd. Compare it to _dozens_ of times. But she knows that does not excuse her behavior. She knows what she has become. But back to the point. Other than that she was more a verbal person. Regardless of that little fact, she tries to keep her insults to a minimum. Only when it was required. 

The whole HBIC persona was truly completed because of her nasty glaring and rumors. If there was another thing that Quinn had to find out the hard way was that if everyone believed a rumor, it might as well be true. She was a nightmare. Might as well live up to her reputation. Then again, she _is_ a Fabray. And Fabrays were diligent. 

_However!_ Given whose shirt she was holding, she was not going to be playing that kind of game anytime soon. 

White trainers pause outside the cafeteria and angle towards all-black skate shoes.

"How do you pronounce your last name?"

Kenai stares at her, dark brows drawn together. "Is that your olive branch for being nosy? _Also_ , can you let go of me first?" She asks, eyes flashing from the cafeteria doors to Quinn, hand holding the blonde's wrist. 

"Why?" The Cheerio asks, naivety apparent in her tone, looking down at the girl from her slouched posture, her fidgeting was restless. "So you can run off?"

The tan girl chuckles nervously before her mouth forms into a deep frown. "I just— I don't wanna go in there." Tears dried up, Kenai's voice still cracks. " _It's scary._ "

Quinn's expression softens. She steps back a bit, head bowing to get a good look at the ebony-haired girl. Brown darts away from hazel and it reminds the blonde of a pinball machine, of the metallic sphere that refuses to remain still. "There's nothing scary in there. Unless you're talking about the food."

The joke goes passed deaf ears and Kenai shakes her head slightly. "No. No. No. It's people. There's a lot of people in there." Her grip on Quinn's wrist stiffens. "Too many people."

Smiling sadly, the cheerleader loosens her clutch on the collar of Kenai's shirt. 

"Hey."

The three-letter word snaps up the nerves of the other girl, eyes no longer bouncing about as her spine straightens but not by much.

" _Hey?_ "

Lips broadening, the blonde breathes out a laugh, finding the awkward response endearing. "Do you trust me?"

The spectacled teen freezes.

"At the moment? No, not really."

Quinn's brow furrows, honestly expecting a more positive response. "Well, at least you're honest."

The brown-eyed girl licks her chapped lips. "Why did you ask that question?" 

"Because," the blonde inhales a shaky breath, feeling indications in the pit of her stomach whenever something lifechanging was about to occur. "I'm about to do something that will save you."

At that moment something shifts within Kenai's head as a spark of understanding sweeps through her eyes, back straightening, regaining that height advantage. "Save me?"

Quinn looks up at her. "Yes."

Kenai watches her attentively as if frozen in time, no other movements aside from her shoulders lifting whenever she breathes in. The blonde can see the cogs turning in her head and she awaits her next words, doing her best to anticipate the next phase.

"Will you also save my sister?"

_Darn!_ Admonishing herself internally, the blonde curses. _Sistership. How could I forget about that?! Wait. Wait. Right. 'Cause you never experienced it, Fabray!_

That would be extending her power a little too far. Would it? This was technically her first year at captaincy and she was already corrupting her repute in McKinley. _But Santana!_ She was responsible for this. The blonde has been nothing but generous, giving Santana her little fantasy of royalty. That was her mistake. If she thinks for a second longer that she can take _her_ spot at the top then she has another thing coming.

She makes the calls. She calls the shots. She gives the shots. No more Miss Nice Girl . . . that sounded weird. It does not roll off the tongue well.

_I'll think of a better one later._

"Call her. Tell her to come here."

"Wait, what—"

_"Call her_ before I change my mind," Quinn cuts her off, tone leaving no room for debate. And as much as Kenai may think that it's directed at her, it's really for both of them. Hey, just because she was the HBIC now it does not mean that she doesn't get nervous now and then. 

Putting the Blackberry back into her pocket, Kenai quirks a brow at the Cheerio as they wait for her sister.

"What are your instincts telling you?"

"To run away."

" _Never mind_. What does your head say?"

"That I'm uncomfortable with the idea of going in there and that I'm at risk at getting bullied. And that is something I want to avoid."

Quinn huffs, not getting the answer she wants for the third time that day.

"But— I . . ." Kenai stumbles over her words and purses her lips, staring right back at Quinn, eyes holding raw emotion as the blonde's face regained enthusiasm. "My—“ Kenai recollects herself, exhaling a needed breath before starting over.

"Every other part of me believes you." Her gaze was sure this time and earnestly profound. "I hope that this means you're sticking around."

There's a warmth that spreads in her chest with a hint of astonishment. Someone _believes_ in her. Her father was a wild card in that department. Not Granny Frannie. Not her mother. But Kenai. The blonde tilts her head and wonders what would have happened if they hadn't met at the playground and if they met at school instead. Would they be treating each other the same way or would Kenai be running like a bat out of hell every time they crossed paths? The what-ifs don't matter now. She's glad that this awkward human being came to her rescue. And as weird as it seems on the surface, this was a breath of fresh air.

"Only if you do the same."

Kenai responds with a big grin, eyes disappearing into slits.

Eye smiling. _Eye smiling? Hm. That's a pretty self-explanatory term for it._

Quinn replies with the curl of her lip, teeth showing.

"Is it too late to say: Get a room? Cuz, _jeez!_ Get. A. Room."

Jumping quite literally, the blonde places a hand to her chest, feeling as though her heart will hop out of its hidey-hole. A major part of her cannot ignore the implication that the newcomer hints at and she blushes before cautiously peeking at the other girl, trying to gauge her reaction. Across from her, the only indicators that Kenai gives off is a peeved glare, arms crossing over her chest.

They both watch as the girl slinks out from between the double doors, the sounds of boisterous teenagers creeping out before getting muffled when they fall shut again.

"Echo, meet Fabray. Fabray, meet my sister. Echo."

Quinn narrows her eyes at Kenai, not understanding her need to be on the last name basis. Her "first" name was literally one syllable. She nods at the younger sibling and is slightly put off by the wide grin that she returns. Only slightly because she was used to a particular blue-eyed blonde who gives off the same jaunty energy. Now that she was face to face with both of them the siblings didn't look that much similar. Whereas Kenai had a tanner complexion the other girl had milkier skin. The same thing could be said about their hair; Kenai's was a bit straight yet wavy and Echo's was mildly curly. The height difference was abundant as the blonde stares down at the new girl — about a three-inch contrast from her stature of five foot six. Compare that to Kenai who was already an inch taller than the blonde. Though, the only similarity she could see between them was the nose.

"So?" Echo shrugs her shoulders carelessly. "Is no one gonna tell me why I was invited to be a third wheel?"

" _Echo_." Kenai hisses at her through her teeth.

"What?! I mean it is true. I was just watching you guys go back and forth. And can I say, that was some _dynamite_ stuff."

Rolling her eyes, Kenai quickly apologizes. "I'm sorry, she's a bit unpredictable."

"And _you_ say sorry too much." Echo quickly shoots off, not giving her older sister enough time to recover.

"I'd rather be apologetic than not know what I did wrong."

"Wimp."

"Whiner."

"Crybaby!"

Kenai gasps. "How dare you."

Echo blows a raspberry at her.

"I have a plan!" Quinn throws up her arms in exasperation.

"Yeah! _She has a plan!_ " Kenai takes Quinn's words as ammo, not realizing what's been said. She backtracks. "Wait, what? What was the plan?" The spectacled teen takes one look at the expression on the blonde's face and hangs her head, muttering an apology.

The younger girl snickers.

Quinn glowers at her causing the freshman to choke on her laughter, ducking her head as well.

Sighing heavily, the hazel-eyed girl continues onward, "As I was about to say, I have a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"She wants to save us."

" _Save_ us? You?" Echo points a finger at the blonde before Kenai is slapping it away. " _Ow!_ "

"Pointing is rude," Kenai adds nonchalantly.

The blonde hides her smirk, watching the verbal match with fascination. _Although_ , she _was_ feeling the pressures on her mind. An ugly kick-off to a headache.

"I don't even know you. Why am I included in this?"

"Because your sister said so."

Echo smacks her teeth, "Kenai! I told you that I'd handle it!"

Quinn puts her head in her hands before she paces back and forth as the sisters take their time hashing it out. _The **one** time I decide to help and **this** is what I get. _Nope, nope. Oh, man. The headache is coming on. 

Kenai stares back at her in disbelief. "What's so wrong with helping you?"

"What's so wrong with you telling me about your hands?!" The shorter sibling fires back at her, grabbing her injured knuckles and shaking it in her face.

"Why didn't you let me tell mom? Huh?" When Echo doesn't respond, the bespectacled girl nods her head. "Exactly. That's what I thought."

"Are you two good at acting?" Quinn suddenly cuts in, halting the squabble.

"Hell no." "Not in the slightest."

Quinn chews on her lip for several moments, hands finding their usual spot on her hips. "Improvisation it is." Finished with her musings she steps up to the bickering sisters and asks, "How do you pronounce your surname?"

"Talamantes." Echo supplies, not bothering to slow down and instead had sped up the pace.

"Move, goob." The bespectacled girl hip checks the other that it has Echo stumbling away. "Say it with me. Ta. La. Man. Tes."

Quinn copies her.

Echo grumbles as she sidles next to Kenai, giving her the stinkeye before grimacing at the blonde. "Can you like add an accent in there? You sound too white."

The Head Cheerio scowls at her, mouth parting, ready to rip her a new one. Before she can do that Kenai growls putting a palm on Echo's cheek and shoves her back to one side, her neck folding. "I stand by what I said. You're way worse than Camille."

"OKAY, that _hurts_. She's a narcissist."

"She's a narcissist that you can't help but like. You're—" The tan girl wrinkles her nose. "You're you." Shaking her head, she focuses back on Quinn. "Say it again. Ta. La. Man. Tes."

"Talamantes."

The freshman is at their side again, nodding her head appreciatively. "I'd give it an eight out of ten."

Quinn raises a brow at her before turning to the older one. 

"Um . . . maybe a nine?"

The blonde sighs, shutting her eyes while rubbing her temples. "Okay. I got this."

"Yeah! Get it, girl!"

Kenai makes a disgruntled noise. "You had an energy drink before you came here didn't you?"

. . .

. . .

. . . 

"Um . . ."

Quinn reopens her eyes, looking between them with determination.

Echo nods to herself, puzzled. "I'm still confused." Kenai shares the same sentiment, dipping her head in agreement.

The blonde merely smiles before moving to stand between them, swiveling around in the process. With a deft attack, she snatches the backs of their shirts, jerking them towards the doors.

"QUINN!" Kenai whines anxiously, hands finding purchase on her cheerleading top, trembling as she grips on the fabric.

"Trust me." The blonde gives her a meaningful look, but the spectacled girl counters with another low-pitched croak from the back of her throat. Frowning, Quinn thinks back to their time at the playground. "I swear on the Boxcar Children."

"Swear on Gertrude."

"I swear on Gertrude."

"I swear that I'm most def third-wheeling."

The two sophomores roll their eyes in unison.

"Look, lady, I just met you." Echo glares at her from the Cheerio's right side.

Quinn groans. "Both of you just push the door open already."

The Talamantes sisters share a look from their respective sides. With a nod, they push the crash bars and Quinn tugs them in, the sounds within the rowdy cafeteria soon overlapping them. As soon as they enter, the ones closest to the exit begin tapping their buddies on the shoulder, alerting them of the peculiar scene. This, of course, causes a chain reaction, going in from one ear and out the next as silence furls over the lunchroom.

Hazel blazes across the room and they are pleased to find that Santana Lopez peers right back, brows pinched as she assesses the interesting state of affairs that have arisen at the front lines of the cafeteria. Brittany sits next to her, blonde brows also furrowing, a worried expression spreading over her features. Going back into character, the illustrious captain of the Cheerios rakes her eyes across the gathered crowd, making sure that every pair of eyes were glued onto her.

"I know what all of you must be wondering. What have these lowlives done?" As if finding this ludicrous, the blonde releases a small chuckle, shaking her head at the ground before lifting her gaze once more. "Let's start off by saying that I know most of you are aware by now that I am a person of reason. I am a person that is objective and that I am capable of separating my emotions from logic. So what — pray tell — had these two done to get on the wrong side of this rationality of mine?"

She pauses, letting those words sink in. As captain, she was expected to deliver all kinds of speeches. Speeches like ingraining fear or inspiring undisputed ventures (most of which deals with the Cheerios). The cheerleading team was basically the breadwinners of the entire school. Offense not cared for if given, but the football team was harrowing.

What kind of leader would she be if she was a horrible public speaker?

"They've done absolutely _nothing_ wrong. And nothing is a quality that I like. Did you know that doing nothing is considered a practice of good nature? Relatively speaking, when one masters nothing then it becomes an art form. In my case, it is the utmost truth. Here at William McKinley High School, nothing is the best form of survival when it comes down to those at the bottom of the hierarchy. If you do _nothing_ then ultimately that means that you are unalarming. _Ergo!_ Exhibit Tally. For the first time, we have ourselves fine products that resulted from compliance and persuasion."

In the blink of an eye, she unhands the siblings and they glance at each other, befuddled.

She settles her hands over her hips.

The ultimate stance.

"For this commendable behavior, there is a reward. I will not tell you what they had done because that would be all. Too. Easy. As of this Monday of September the 14th, 2009, Echo and Kenai Talamantes are thereby _exempt_ from the functions and operations that are held under the Big Quench phenomenon along with the standard acts of hazing. They are under my protection now and if anyone," She looks directly at her second-in-command who seems as though steam should be blasting out from her ears. Brittany wears a huge grin, the only third of the Unholy Trinity to voice her appreciation for these types of heroic niceties. "If _anyone at all_ dares to challenge my authority I will be forced to use radical and extreme measures. And believe me, you do _not —_ under any circumstances _—_ want to find out what else I'm capable of."

The silence is ongoing as students look to each other for clarification.

"With that in mind, I recommend that you make good choices. Because there _is_ a limit to how many you can have."

Nothing left say Quinn pivots on her heel and bursts through the steel exit, knowing for a fact that everyone is watching her until the doors shut with a heavy thud.

During summer break Quinn had been stoked when she had been briefed by Coach Sylvester that the Cheerios would get first pick at locker placements. Principal Figgins had finally buckled from his previous standpoint that fairness was still a virtue and that wherever a Cheerio's locker was that's where it would stay. The man can preach about his virtues all he wants but he was still a hypocrite. Fairness? He had given the Cheerios a private locker room, dry cleaning privileges, tanning privileges, etc. To decide where your locker was going to go was just a small addition to those misguided acts of legitimacy. Not that those privileges were something to complain about but still, it was hypocrisy that she was nit-picking at. There was no harm in pointing it out.

At the moment though, she hates Figgins' short-lived resistance to such a trivial amenity.

"Fizzling out already afores you even reach bona fide supremacy, Fabray?"

Quinn bites the inside of her lip before angling her head towards the unwelcomed arrival, giving the shorter cheerleader a malicious smile. "That was a mouthful, Santana. Even for _you_."

Santana scoffs, flicking her pony. "Of course you're slut-shaming me. What? Great Daddy Jesus teach ya that one?" She asks before plucking the pendant from the blonde's chest, rolling her eyes when Quinn smacks her hand away.

"I don't think he'll be forgiving you for your sins any time soon." The Head Cheerio quips, keeping a cautious eye on the girl as she opens the locker right beside hers.

"You really are something else." The tan girl shakes her head, laughing to herself sarcastically. "Here you go again trying to lay claim that you are a harmless little flower. _Fuuuuuuuuuck offfffffffffff_ with that _bullshit_."

"Complain all you want. Just another reason why I won't come running back to you." 

Snickering, Santana crosses her arms, leaning her torso close as if the blonde couldn't already see her mirth. "So that's what this is about? You save the crispy mawed Asian and her runty sidekick just to get back at me?"

The hazel-eyed teen smirks, humming as she stands her ground. _Don't like that, huh?! You annoying jerk!!!_ She yells from the confines of her mind as Santana's eyes bulge back at her with hostility. "Yes." She lets the answer settle, savoring how the brunette's face screws up with delight. Bad move. One must not be too hasty in one's rejoicing. "But not for the reason you think."

As if a strong wave had doused over her, Santana's defensive posture slackens, though, not due to relief.

That was new.

She was silent.

"You have forgotten your place at my side. It's a noun, in case you didn't know." She shrugs offhandedly, but inwardly she was giggling like a little kid when the other girl responds by baring her teeth. Guilty as charged, she enjoyed ruffling Santana's feathers. "The chain of command has a purpose, Lopez. There's a reason why _you_ are the second-in-command and why _I_ am the captain. You do as I say when I say it. Slushying those girls was an act of insubordination, believe it or not. Consider this your last warning."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lets out an affronted noise from the back of her throat. "You know? I never knew you were funny."

"I'm not joking."

The brunette tenses, eyes hardening and easing daggers into her soul, but nothing can penetrate her resolve.

Quinn lifts a neat brow. "Don't even think about trying anything funny. Because if Britt gets a word that you're strong-arming me then you know whose side she'll be taking."

Unblinkingly, Santana clenches her jaw, the cords in her neck protruding. For a moment something happens and it makes the blonde's skin crawl all over as though she was burning. A formidable spark gleams back at her and Quinn twitches, having the urge to rub at her eyes. She blinks and just like that the red disappears. It must be adrenaline.

_I'm_ _seeing things._

Red catches her peripherals and given that she was feeling a lick of paranoia, she glances over.

Azimio Adams rambles down the hall with a familiar beverage in hand.

Quinn nimbly pilfers the cup, ignoring the _HEY!_ and slips her hand into Santana's skirt, the jerky movement causing her to accidentally scratch skin. Skipping her spanks altogether, she goes into the waistband of the lace thong that she _knows_ she's wearing before pouring glops of Red Dye No. 6 onto her pelvis, damning her private parts with a temporary _but_ long-lasting numbness.

" _You fucking bitch!_ "

"You should take care of that. It's going to get a little _nippy_." Quinn winks as Santana lets out a raging scream before stomping away. _Funny_ , she was expecting some sort of retaliation. She can't complain though, getting slapped was not something she looks forward to. 

The childish part of her brain encourages Quinn to chuck the cup at the back of the girl's head but then she'd be littering. The blonde watches as she disappears around the corner, a track of red streaming after her. She grimaces, feeling a tad guilty as laughter crowds the corridor. No. She deserved it. _Don't forget, Fabray._ Quinn shakes her head, eyeing the wet path, leading to her trainers . . . which has splashes of their own red.

_UGH! Great!_

Rolling her eyes, the blonde huffs, slamming her door shut before locking it, along the way also noticing that Santana left hers unlocked. 

Quinn glares at the compartment before sighing, hating her own guts when her body moves for her, closing the locker softly before clicking the combination lock into place. 

Once she cleans the mess on her shoes on the _other_ side of the school (God forbid that she gets in the way of Santana's wrath), she strolls out the bathroom, eyes wandering to the bulletin board, and stops short at a sign-up sheet with chunks of slush. 

**NEW DIRECTIONS!**

**Glee club**

**Sign up!**

_**Mercedes Jones** _

_**Kurt Hummel** _

_**Artie Abrams** _

_**TTTTina C!** _

_**Kenai Talamantes** _

_**Rachel Berry ★** _

Quinn blanches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear things up Echo is 5'3 and Kenai is like 5'7 ½.
> 
> The sign-up sheet was on purpose. Tina's name isn't exact because in one part where she was signing there were four T's and then when Rachel was signing it's noticeable that there was only one T so I decided to mix it up.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I had a difficult time with the speech that Quinn gave. I didn't want it to sound cheesy or unrealistic, but I'm sorry if it still sounds like garbage to your ears.
> 
> I was thinking about going overboard and passing 12,797 words but nahhhhhhhhh! Quinn freaking out seems like a good cliffhanger to me. Don't you think so?
> 
> You know the drill.
> 
> Question? Comments? Concerns?
> 
> Be the light to guide me on this journey.


	6. Keep Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts from Season 1 x Episode 1 (aka Pilot) will show up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, there are just some days where my mentality is utter shit and then the next day I would be so inspired to write and do something productive with my life. School has been kicking my ass lately, BUT I managed to write a whole essay in one day so I'm proud of myself.
> 
> I hope you guys aren't getting sick of Quinn's POV yet.
> 
> Truthfully, Brittany's storyline with Stephen Hawking being her dad bothers me a bit because it was obviously used for shits and giggles and then there's that thing where she suddenly became smart, so I'm going to throw in a twist.
> 
> Disclaimer: Cover story is not mine, I researched it and found it on CNN; also, the news story was inspired by HITRECORD
> 
> Song Used: 
> 
> Clumsy by Fergie  
> On My Own sung by Samantha Barks  
> Jet Song from West Side Story  
> Sit Down You're Rockin' the Boat by Frank Loesser
> 
> Word Count: 11,525 (Dammit! I was so close to breaking my record!)
> 
> Posted On: 5/20/2020

_"You and I are a team. There is nothing more important than our friendship."_

_\- Mike Wazowski (Monsters, Inc.)_

* * *

When she gets home that Monday from Cheerios practice, Quinn immediately goes to her bathroom to rid herself of sweat. Finishing promptly, she steps out of the room, rubbing a towel along her damp tresses. As she's pulling on a cotton sleep shirt she hears the front door slam shut, alerting the blonde of the arrival of her parents. 

About done with her homework, Quinn zips up her backpack but pauses when she hears yells from downstairs.

It usually takes a couple of minutes for arguments to die down but it continues. Thirteen minutes. Quinn calculates this as she looks at the analog clock that's perched on her nightstand. She waits for the second hand to pass the six and the shouts don't cease, instead, they seem to have gotten louder as her parents probably moved their spat into their bedroom.

Knowing dinner that night was going to be excruciating she might as well go out and enjoy her time before drowning in tension. The blonde goes to her dresser, plucking out clothes before pulling on a pair of gray sweats and tucking her shirt inside. She makes sure to throw on a pair of shoes and grabs a hoodie from her closet before gently closing her bedroom door, scurrying along the wall until she gets to her parent's open doorway. She peeks inside and her mother is facing the bathroom, back to her. She makes a break for it.

" _That tattooed freak is your whore! Don't even lie about it!_ "

Quinn freezes on the stairs, almost toppling over when her foot slips, catching herself in time on the banister. Shaking herself out of her stupor, the hazel-eyed teen rushes down the stairs.

Just about tired and boneless, the blonde sits on the steps outside the house, her phone in hand. She could be weeping, the severity of the situation calls for tears, but why would she waste them on a matter that she has the displeasure of overhearing time and time again?

She scrolls through her contact list.

The options she considers are in alphabetical order: Brittany, Dumbo, Finn, Santana.

Her standing with Brittany was a bit iffy still. Thinking back to their talk on Wednesday, she may have reacted a tad too sensitively to what had not been said. And that was weakness enough. Her hasty departure was the ultimate manifestation that what her third-in-command had said was true in every way. As the HBIC she has always kept her cool in situations where someone would question her decision making; if they had attempted in doing so, well, they would regret being doubtful in the first place.

But this is Brittany she's talking about. She could never lash out at her.

Still.

A reaction is a reaction.

And she had given Brittany a response. Who was she kidding? It's not like she could have kept it a secret from her. Saying that it would have been easy to conceal her feelings would have been a big fat lie. The taller blonde would have found out anyway (she has a knack for these types of things). She just sped up the process is all.

Did being honest cause a rift between them?

The same reason applies: This is _Brittany_ she's talking about. There could never be a rift. If either of them had something to get off their chest they wouldn't keep it from one another; this would've been good news if not for the fact that this was only the second time they've ever gone through an uncomfortable phase where truthfulness was to blame. Quinn was still quite new to this. She hadn't yet explored that terrain where the other half of the friendship was confrontational about her self destruction.

You may not remember Dumbo. But Quinn remembers those twitchy ears from a particular video that JBI had uploaded on his blog. Kenai Talamantes is someone that she hopes won't break in her presence because sometimes there were moments where she was that person that destroyed every single thing that was touched. As much as she wants to cement her friendship with the spectacled girl, everything was still so fresh. Heck, she had saved Kenai just hours ago. And the girl she had been adamant on saving had basically signed her will the minute she signed up for that damn glee club. For someone who was quite reserved, the girl ironically had a gift for constantly being in the spotlight. 

Quinn sighs heavily. All her work down the drain. She crosses her fingers. The New Directions better be kept under a low profile. Besides that, Quinn can't see her right now. She doesn't want to seem too eager. 

Finn? He was sweet. He has that innocent caliber to him that balances out his hormones, which she finds (only the former quality) endearing because it reminds her of a person that she had previously mentioned. But as much as he likes to say the "L" word to her she knows he doesn't mean it in the way that he thinks he should. He wants to mean it in the way where those people in the movies fall into each others' arms like they were meant to be, pouring out their love as if it was their last breath on earth. Commonly known as soul mates. 

_That's so unrealistic._

She doesn't want to see him right now.

And Santana? That was a whole _other_ can of worms on its own. Santana is an opportunist, driven by self-interest and a craving for chaos. Luckily for the blonde, Brittany was their buffer. Without her, all of her schemings would have gone downhill. It wouldn't have even taken off because Santana would have already exploited her feebleness. But if she wasn't so secure with that fact she wouldn't have been so consumed by her desire to know the truth about herself (a truth that she stubbornly refuses to admit), this vulnerable part of her that she knows will get spat on. This option was a no-go. By no means will she go back on her promise to herself. It's the least she could do to respect herself, to get away from Santana's tauntings and indecisiveness to be veracious. What did Santana call her again? Scrap? Small fragments or leftovers that were discarded purposely. Not worth anything.

The hazel-eyed girl shakes her head before pressing the call button.

" _Quinn! Hi!_ "

The stiffness along her shoulders shrink as the girl quietly sighs in relief. "Hey, Brittany."

" _Not to be a drag or anything, but what's up? I thought you'd still be mad at me._ "

Biting her lip thoughtfully, the Head Cheerio falls silent, shuffling her thoughts before gathering them back into a neat pile. "Do you want to hang out for a little while? I have to tell you something important."

" _I'm not home right now, but if you want you can join me and Rachel at Goodwill_."

Quinn almost drops her phone, catching it in time. "W-Why?"

" _Well, I want to buy a laundry basket for Lord T's toys — he keeps losing them. And Rachel's here to buy more argyle sweaters and those skirts that show off her long legs_."

Before she can even think about it her teeth are already nabbing at her bottom lip, chewing sinfully. 

" _Quinn? Hello? You still there?_ "

The blonde flushed hot. "Yeah! I'm here, I'm here. What I _meant_ was since when do you hang out with her?"

Brittany falls silent and Quinn becomes uncertain of herself, hating this part of communication via phone call — not being able to see what the other's facial responses were.

" _I— Rachel and I? We've been — We were friends when I moved here during the sixth grade, but uh . . . we fell apart when high school began_." 

Quinn fills in the pregnant pause before it extends to infinite silence. "You're trying to get that back." She points out with certainty. "Why'd you keep it a secret?"

The taller blonde lets out an awkward laugh and just by that Quinn senses the seriousness of this issue, not that she was saying falling outs between friends weren't serious but more so because of how the dancer was unapologetic with her bubbliness. At the moment she was nowhere near merry.

" _It's a sensitive topic. Plus, you never asked so I didn't bother_." Brittany hums at the other end and a noise clatters in the background, giving the shorter blonde an idea that she was already at the store. " _You didn't mention Dumbo at first. What's the difference?_ "

"Because this is Man Hands we're talking about."

" ** _Quinn_.**" The softness in Brittany's tone was no longer apparent. Now it was replaced with disapproval. " _Quit it with the name-calling. What happened to the nice rule? You were doing so well."_

The hazel-eyed girl winces. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm trying, B. But it's kind of difficult."

" _Progress isn't progress without struggle._ "

Quinn smiles, appreciating this part of Brittany S. Pierce. Most of the time the taller blonde was a happy-go-lucky person with no concern for the times that she acts like an airhead, but Quinn has an inkling to what's lying underneath.

The girl is clever.

There was a time during freshmen year when they had attended Algebra I together and she could not help but notice how the girl would consistently leave the last question blank (be it a quiz, test, etc.), but it also depended on how many there were to begin with. Not that she was a cheat or anything, peeking at Britt’s paper; Quinn strives to be principled in her studies. It didn't help the taller blonde’s case when she would ask how many questions there were as if she was calculating just how many she needed to skip to tank her grade. But that was _exactly_ what she was doing.

The captain had asked her about this of course.

And Brittany responded with: "They're too difficult. I'd be wasting my time."

So Quinn told their teacher at the time out of concern who had agreed, also noting this odd behavior, giving the class a quiz the very next day and all of the questions were purposely child's play. Brittany was the only one who had received a B again for questions she had answered correctly the last time, raising Quinn's suspicions indubitably. This led to the first disagreement they ever had with one another. Quinn doesn't bring it up anymore because the blue-eyed girl had told her to drop it in that tone that left no room for buts. However, this does not mean she doesn't give the dancer a pointed look whenever they show each other their report cards. And every time without fail Brittany would use her silliness to divert the attention: "Look! Straight B's like my name!"

" _Are you jealous?_ "

Spluttering, the Head Cheerio fans her face, suddenly feeling toasty. "Why would you say that?"

" _You only break your promise when a strong feeling gets the better of you._ "

"Brittany. I am _not_ jealous."

"You're totes jealous."

"I am not _—"_

_"Hold that thought. Penny wants to talk to you."_

_"Hi, Quinn!"_

Composing herself, the blonde smiles, welcoming the child's exuberance. "Hey, Pen! How's my favorite Pierce?"

_"I'm great! I saw a bunch of board games! They even had Twister!"_

"That's fantastic! Are you thinking about buying it?"

" _Yeah! It's all thanks to Rachel though! She's the one that saw it and grabbed it all the way up from the top shelf!_ "

At the mention of the small brunette, the blonde smiles before asking, "Really? Isn't she a tad too short to reach the top shelf?"

Penny gasps.

  
  
" _Ooooooooooo! I'm telling! Rachel! Rachel! Rachel!"_

Quinn's eyes widen. "No! Penny?! Come on! Stop! I'll make you a deal!"

Shoes slapping against the floor can be heard and the blonde starts sweating when she hears a familiar voice.

" _Penny, it's not safe running indoors._ " Rachel chastises Brittany's younger sibling, not realizing that the person on the other side of the phone had stopped breathing.

" _It's an emergency!_ "

" _Well, what's the emergency?_ "

" _Quinn called you short!_ "

Biting her knuckle, the blonde's fingers grip tightly onto her phone, heart hammering against her ribcage as she awaits a response. She doesn't know what to think when she hears rustling on the other side.

" _Quinn Fabray, I am pretty certain I have told you countless times that I am well above the average height of dwarfism._ "

"Look, Ru _— Berry,_ I could care less about your height."

" _Perhaps you should tell Santana Lopez that, she has resorted to calling me a hobbit."_

"There's a reason why you have a big mouth on your face. Use it."

_"Why thank you, Quinn!_ " Rachel tells her jovially. " _Singers with large mouths have a propensity to have bigger voices and thus, the ability to formulate bigger sounds._ "

"Of course _you_ would take what I said as a compliment," Quinn mutters to herself. "Can you hand the phone to Brittany? It's urgent."

Rachel tsks.

"What?"

" _I believe you are missing a word in there. People usually use it in a polite manner when they are requesting for something._ " 

Quinn rolls her eyes, but she can't ignore how she was amused by this display; it was absurd given their history with one another _—_ with the blonde usually attacking her verbally and the brunette responding with her bit of sassiness that's derived through a ramble. Rachel Berry has always been the opposite of subservient when it came to the thralls of the social order. It was one of the first things that made the blonde notice her.

And notice her.

And notice her.

And notice her until all she did was notice her.

She notices the way she holds her head up even when she gets covered in slush, undefeated. She notices the freckle on the left side of the brunette's cheek. She notices her constant need to erupt by dramatic idiosyncrasy. She notices the small scar at the center brunette’s forehead that disappears into her hairline. She noticed her need for sentences to be grammatically correct along with the spelling during the ninth grade, going so far as to piss off their History teacher every time a mistake was made and not giving a single hoot about how the teacher glared at her.

The blonde simpers to herself sarcastically, "It would tickle me _pink_ if you gave Brittany her phone back."

" _Hmm. I'll accept it. That's the closest I'll ever get to a please._ " 

"Dear God. Stop being critical for one second and hand her the phone already."

" _I don't practice Christianity, Quinn, but I don't think you should be taking your Lord's name in vain._ "

Quinn sucks in a shaky breath. She may have seen the girl in a different light _—_ a light that she won't bother delving into _—_ but goodness! She had a way of getting on her nerves, going so far as to use it as a convenience.

Perhaps she has a thing for people who challenge her?

_Shut up, Fabray._ The cheerleader scoffs, "Oh, shove a kugel up your butt."

That did it.

The brunette practically screeches at her that it has Quinn wincing, pulling the phone away from her ear. " _How dare you suggest that! A delicious casserole is not to be insulted in such a manner! You take that back right now!_ "

  
  
There’s rustling.

" _Really, Quinn?_ "

"Brittany!" Quinn sighs with relief. "I really need to talk to you." 

" _And I told you to be nice to Rachel._ "

"But she started it!"

" _You are channeling my sister right now. I don't know if I should find this silly or scary._ "

The shorter blonde sags, puffing out a breath. "I wanted to apologize." She finally gives in but would have preferred being face to face.

" _W—_ " Brittany sighs audibly before Quinn hears murmurs on the other side and the background is no longer noisy when she speaks again, presumably having moved to a quieter place.

  
  
" _I should be the one saying sorry. I overstepped and I know how you get when someone catches you off guard_."

"No, no." Quinn's confused. "I . . . I should have acted more maturely instead of leaving all of a sudden."

" _But **I** was the one that made you feel cornered. You wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been honest with you._"

Quinn makes a noise, revealing her strife. "No. Don't ever apologize for being honest. After all, honesty—"

"—is the best policy." They finish together and Quinn can feel the other blonde smiling along with her.

" _Yeah, I know_."

The silence that follows isn't disturbing and she listens to the background noises of the cars passing by from the other side of the line. The tension along her shoulders falter, feeling less weighed down by her guilt.

" _Let's meet halfway then._ "

"I don't follow . . ."

" _If you agree that all of this is just Kool-Aid under the bridge then we're both forgiven._ "

The Head Cheerio doesn't have it in her to correct Brittany's phrasing of the idiom. It was another thing that she liked about the blonde, she just made things fun. "Okay. If it's Kool-Aid under the bridge for you then it's Kool-Aid under the bridge for me."

" _Kool. With a 'k.'_ "

"Kool with a 'k.'" Quinn agrees with her. 

" _Can I be honest again?_ " Brittany asks her softly before quickly adding, " _I promise it's not something bad._ " Quinn hums with approval. " _I think what you did for Kenai and her sister was sweet of you. Kenai's really protective of Echo._ "

"How do you know that?" Quinn's brows crease together.

" _I have chem with her. Most of the time she talks about her sister so I just assumed._ "

"Oh." Quinn mistakenly lets out, before cringing, thinking about how dull that sounded. "She talks a lot with you?" She secretly waits at the edge of her seat.

" _She doesn't talk a lot. I have to start most of the conversations, ya know? She's shy, but you know what they say about shy people._ "

Quinn blushes. "What?" She asks, head going to the dirty side of the spectrum.

" _They're the most fun people to be around once they start getting comfortable with you_."

"Oh! _Yeah_. Definitely. I was thinking the same thing." The blonde pulls a face that expresses a moment of _yikes_. 

" _Come back here! I'm talking to you!_ " The yell is from inside of the house and the blonde's shoulders go frigid, immediately wondering if her friend had heard her mother.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have fun with your preadolescent friend I guess."

" _You could still join us if you want to?_ " Brittany offers, a bit of hope in her tone.

"It's fine." The shorter blonde declines, not sure if spending time with Rachel Berry would do her any good. "I had enough of Berry's dramatics for one day. Besides, I have chores that I need to get done."

" _Mhmm._ "

"I'm not lying, Britt."

" _I didn't say that._ " Brittany's tone is coy. " _Welp! Have fun with your chores!_ "

"Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in."

Exchanging a few words of goodbyes, the blonde hangs up, ears straining to hear what's going on from within the house. It's quiet—

Nope! There they go again.

Shaking her head, the hazel-eyed teen pockets her phone and jogs down the stairs, having an idea about where to go.

About fifteen minutes in the blonde finds herself at a nearby convenience store outside of the Lima Heights neighborhood, strolling through the aisle that had the energy bars. She wasn't interested in buying anything and she didn't _have_ her wallet. Aside from her not so preparedness, the girl only wanted a change of scenery and a change of pace.

The bell rings, but the blonde has half a mind to pay attention to it when all she hears is a person who doesn’t seem to understand simple grade school etiquette and what "inside voice" meant. 

"Key! Look, they got all kinds of Monster drinks!" 

Quinn halts as she stares at a box of Nature Valley. That voice sounds familiar.

"Is your sister really that invested in this crap?" A second voice asks.

"Hey! This is not crap. Tell your girlfriend this isn't crap."

"Cállate." A third person joins the conversation. "One. You're too loud. Two. Pepper is not my girlfriend. We're just friends. Right, Pepper?"

Oh my god. That's Kenai. Her sister. And Suzy Pepper?! . . . she looked like a weirdo! Quinn panics, staring down at her attire. The one time she decides to take a break and—

Wait.

Wait.

Wait a sec.

Friends? Did she just say they were friends? Already?! Everyone was getting into Kenai's good graces! The hazel-eyed girl harumphs. She should be the one sitting next to Kenai and not that loser, Suzy Pepper! _  
_

_  
No, stop that! Nice. Be nice. Even if it pains you . . . what the heck are you saying?!  
_

  
Can you see desperation when you see it? She was getting too attached; perhaps she fancied the idea of this mousy girl being there for her. She wanted it. She wanted every bit of what Brittany had with Santana where they were together 24/7. Full of affection and friendship. Maybe that wasn't a good comparison. They fooled around too much. And she wasn't gay. _Not gay._

"I don't know, Tally." Suzy takes on a suggestive tone and Quinn grimaces. "You’re a bit of a nerd. And I'm a bit of a sapiosexual." She did _not_ just do that. She did _not_ just witness the school's loon flirt with Kenai.

_Gag me._

A person barks out laughing. " _Your ears!_ They're _sooooooo_ red! That does it. We're keeping you." That was Echo.

" _Thanks_ ," Suzy responds with dryness. "Makes me feel like a stray."

"You're welcome!" After a moment Echo starts again. "So. Suz?" 

"What?"

"You know anything about that shit that's wrapped around my dear sister's hands?"

Quinn perks up.

"Don't even think about it," Kenai warns.

"Sorry, kid. Patient confidentiality. Plus, your sister's been good to me. I don't want to ruin a lifestyle that's just begun." The volume of the girl's voice fades a bit, telling Quinn that they were moving and she follows, thanking that the shelves were high. She stops at the very end of the aisle, flicking her black hoodie up and waits for the teenagers to pass by, and instead of going straight ahead like she expected them to they come into the aisle she’s in, their steps loud behind her.

She freezes.

"Since you're so stubborn I might as well tell you—"

The blonde side-eyes the trio, getting a glimpse of someone’s shoes before she slips into the aisle that they were just in, losing pieces of the story.

"—and I punched a wall." Kenai ends abruptly.

Quinn blinks, a worried expression taking over her face as she stares down at a cylinder of Pringles she had grabbed as cover.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why the hell would you do that?"

“I— I was so angry. So I just started doing it and it felt good.”

”Look at yourself now, stupid.” Echo admonishes her older sister sharply. “Look where that got you.”

”Fuck _off_. Like you don’t do weird shit when you’re pissed. Pepper, let me tell ya something. She stress dresses. Puts all kinds of weird combinations on herself. The other day I caught her wearing yellow stockings underneath a Valentine’s Day skirt _on top_ of a neon pink one-piece swimsuit. Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And that wasn't even the worst part. _No, no, no, no, no._ The worst part was that her socks were inside out. _That's_ how bad it gets."

Behind the shelves, Quinn grimaces, imagining the outfit.

_Ew_.

Echo grunts. “Shut up! I’m serious! You shouldn’t be doing that type of shit. You could hurt yourself.”

”That’s the _entire_ point. But I got more pressing matters to think about.”

”Like what?” Suzy asks.

”Why won’t you guys join the glee club with me?”

_Why don't you quit while you're at it?_

Quinn thinks to herself, frowning. She looks up and notices an older woman is glaring at her to which it has the blonde scrambling away. If there was one thing that terrified her it was an adult and not just any adult, a _parent_. And the woman that was in front of her was one of them considering the fruit snacks the woman held in her arms.

”You’ve heard my voice _and_ you’ve seen my dancing. That should answer your question.” Echo lets out a _pfft_. “I’ll stick to drawing and playing the piano.”

”There’s a piano in the choir room. Mr. Schue said that’s where the glee meetings would be held and he said you could use it if you join.”

”Eh, I’ll think about it.”

”Great! What about you?”

Quinn already knows the girl’s answer before she says it, having a great clue from her situation from last year when the delusional girl burned her esophagus with that pungent fruit after Schuester rejected her. Boy, was she desperate. Going after a married man? What was she thinking?

_Quinn, be nice._

Brittany's words rush through her head and it makes the girl deflate.

_Yes, B._

“Um, no thanks. _Totally_ not my scene.”

They walk away again and Quinn moves only to be blocked by the same woman.

"If you're going to eavesdrop at least be discreet about it." The woman snarls at her, nose scrunching nastily. 

Hanging her head, Quinn decides she's had enough of her spying. She heads straight for the exit, passing the cash register but hightails it once she spots the trio nearby.

Later that day when the dreadful dinner had finally concluded, Quinn sits at the center of the couch, acting as a go-between for her parents. The channel is switched onto a game show but gets interrupted by WOHN-TV where Rod Remington and Andrea Carmichael sit in their usual spots, expressions shaky.

This was odd because ever since she could remember the two hosts would be spreading that awfully fake smile of theirs even when all they had to present were those lame cover stories from the zoo. There _was_ that _one_ particular story that was based on an accusation and how the zoo had painted a donkey black and white to pass it off as a zebra. That was— that was . . . something else.

Those frowns were setting off warning bells in her head. And there was _never_ news that was worth the _BREAKING NEWS_ headline.

"Good evening, I'm Rod Remington."

"And I'm Andrea Carmichael."

"We bring you breaking news of multiple murders just on the outskirts of Celina, Ohio. Six college students were found deep in the forest by two local teenagers, nineteen-year-old Tommy Carlson and sixteen-year-old Roxy Hill. Most of the victims were found strung up on trees with dozens of lacerations to their bodies as well as bites that can only be distinguished as human. Their intestines were found spilled away from their corpses. The image will not be shown due to the severity and the gruesomeness of this horrid event."

"Aside from that, Rod, the lone survivor is at the hospital right now and is getting treatment for his wounds. The only bite that was found on the unnamed victim was on the juncture of the young man's neck. Another source, who wishes to remain anonymous, claims that they had seen two women running suspiciously away from the woods where the crime scene had taken place. The source says the two women are blonde and had massive stains of blood on their clothing. Please be wary of your surroundings and if anyone catches sight of these two suspects it would be greatly appreciated. Kindly await the updates on the victim as new information becomes available."

"We now return you to your broadcast on TV, already in progress."

That night Quinn makes sure her windows are locked and sealed. As she gets into bed the blonde brings the covers to her neck before her hand glides underneath her pillow, fingers pinching together as she pulls out the turquoise fabric. She takes a deep whiff of roses and fresh laundry until she feels her eyelids grow heavy; succumbing to her tiredness, the blonde places the hanky under her cheek, securing it before her butterfly lashes flutter downward.

* * *

On Tuesday, the day goes by rather slowly.

Finn had calmed down with the flirting once she told him and he was confused, telling her that he was just being nice and how he didn't want her Cheerios to act all gloomy during practice if he rejected them. But then she told him that that's exactly what he needed to do. And surprisingly he did right then and there at her locker as a baby Cheerio was walking by. Finn had stopped her, giving her a whole talk in front of the blonde. Of course, Finn didn't realize that Quinn had given the baby Cheerio a death glare that could soil a grown man's trousers, but more confidence for him, she muses. 

After the entirety of that, the quarterback had kissed her cheek and she smiled up at him, hiding her discomfort.

There were about three times during that same day where the blonde would see Brittany hanging by Berry's locker, getting the brunette to smile each time. The fourth time she sees Berry the blue-eyed girl isn't with her. Out of curiosity, she follows; this makes Quinn disgusted with herself when she recounts her actions, adding up to her eavesdropping on Kenai, Echo, and Pepper.

_I'm turning into a stalker._

The petite girl enters the auditorium. Quinn narrows her eyes before going to another door, the one that leads to the balcony that overlooks the stage. Swiftly climbing the stairs, the blonde leans her wrists on the railing, watching the brunette set up on the piano that McKinley had somehow afforded. 

To feel better about herself and her newly found stalker tendencies, the cheerleader searches the seats, skimming the rows from the front to the middle to the near back where Kenai Talamantes sits. Quirking her brow, the blonde wonders just how good the shadows make her blend in. Sifting through her thoughts, she vaguely remembers searching for the bespectacled girl in the cafeteria and she could never find her. All along she's been here staring at Berry-Berry.

The tune of a song blasts from the pink radio and it hauls in all of her attention once more.

_First time that I saw your eyes_

_Boy, you looked right through me, mmm, mmm_

_Played it cool, but I knew you knew_

_That cupid hit me, mmm, mmm_

_You got me trippin' (Oh), stumblin' (Oh), flippin' (Oh), fumblin'_

_Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (In - in, love - love)_

_You got me slippin' (Oh), tumblin' (Oh), sinkin' (Oh), crumblin'_

_Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (In - in, love - love)_

_So in love with you_

Quinn's upper lip curls upward when she spots the culturally ambiguous girl bobbing her head in time with the beat.

Shaking her head, she focuses on Rachel Berry, grooving in her stupidly adorable penny loafers and plaid skirt twirling around her thighs as she spins in her spot. It was refreshing to see this easiness in the brunette's movements, all loose and flowy, unafraid of anything at the moment. 

When the song ends, Rachel leaves first, going through the parallel of curtains, a skip to her step. Then, she angles her head in Tally's direction who has stood up and is walking up the carpeted steps with a plastic bag in hand.

During English, Quinn doesn't stop herself from peeking, studying Kenai and the school's crazy. Their interactions were fluid. _Somehow_ the sharp edges of Suzy's personality had caught Kenai's hand at friendship. An odd pairing, but she could see the appeal. Suzy was roughened by her past experiences, much quieter and observant — somewhat of a big mouth like Berry before — but still had that sour expression that made you want to run. Kenai was quiet because she was an introvert, also observant, and much kinder than her companion. To the trained and untrained eye, it was a perfect pair. Two little mice powering through the lion's den. Both were quiet, yet one was a firecracker at heart — Suzy's craziness mellowed out by Kenai's reason.

At the end of the day, Quinn had to, unfortunately, witness Santana and her sometimes friend, Puckerman, swap saliva _on_ her locker.

Gross.

"Continue your provocative displays elsewhere." Quinn pinches the mohawked teen's shoulder, short nails digging through his shirt.

Puck yelps, rubbing his nipped skin. "Jeez! Calm down, will ya? There's enough of Puckzilla to go 'round, baby." The boy ends with a salacious smirk.

Quinn responds with a blank face, gaze unimpressed.

The football player gulps, coughing into his fist awkwardly before pulling Santana away who is silent, but the blonde knows better. The Latina winks at her from over her shoulder as Puckerman grips her hip with a meaty hand. 

The next day during lunch Quinn comes back for the show.

She's a bit disappointed when a certain spectacled girl isn't there, but she can't do anything about that so she settles her eyes over Rachel Berry's frame in her usual sweater vest, skirt, and knee-high socks. Not that she'd admit it out loud, but her weird fashion sense was atrociously cute in a way. Aside from fitting in at a boarding school, there was something admirable about how the short brunette didn't care for fashion trends, she was authentic. She was the real deal.

And _that_ was threatening.

People are naturally envious of others. So to be bombarded with this loud girl and her decisive ambitions for the future while everyone else still had their mouths hung open, lost, and irresolute, she was bound to catch a buttload of stink eyes.

She was going to get out of this town.

She just _knows_ it.

_On my own_

_Pretending he's beside me_

_All alone_

_I walk with him till morning_

_Without him_

_I feel his arms around me_

_And when I lose my way I close my eyes_

_And he has found me_

A shiver coils up the blonde's spine and she's entranced, mouth parting and eyes unequivocally fastened on Rachel. The girl who sings her heart out time and time again. The girl who sings despite the nasty comments on her MySpace videos. The girl who rattles the organ in Quinn's chest as much as she hates to admit it.

The blonde watches her with softer eyes, wiping the sudden rush of tears in them. With a heavy heart, she waits for the song to come to an end. She holds in a breath, watching the brunette stand in silence, unwilling to move and staring into the depths of the shadows that spread over the audience.

Something weird upsets the waves in the back of her head as if she's intruding on a fragile moment.

With a last look, the blonde turns, descending the stairs — Rachel Berry's voice still girdling the span of her mind.

Heart thudding against her ribcage, the blonde awaits the auditions later that day. From her position on the balcony, she can see the Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester, at the judging desk where the audience sits with the little mic and the light accompanying him.

Towards the very back, Suzy Pepper has her arms crossed, refusing to look Mr. Schue's way. Scoffing, the cheerleader rolls her eyes, still peeved that Pepper managed to get closer to Tally in less than a week.

The blonde studies each student as the band teacher with glasses, she never bothered to learn his name, attends to their chosen song with ease.

Mercedes Jones is up first and her brows shoot up when she belts out R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Kurt Hummel's bright blue pants are what Quinn focuses on. Tina Cohen-Chang's audition song was _aggressive_ , to say the least, _especially_ the thigh-slapping part which has the blonde snorting into her hand. The boy in the wheelchair, Artie Abrams (she had prayed for the boy once after seeing his feet dangling out the dumpsters), sings a risqué song that makes the blonde's eyes bulge. 

A sound makes her tense up and she turns to the right, breaking out into a grin before huffing in annoyance when Brittany comes rushing up the stairs with Santana's wrist in her clutch. 

" _Hey, Q!_ " The blue-eyed girl stage whispers. " _Has Rachel or Kenai gone up yet?_ "

The Head Cheerio opens her mouth but Santana beats her to the punch, "Why are you so concerned for, Crispy Lips?"

" _Santana!"_ Brittany abruptly lets go of the brunette's wrist, her expression taking on a frown. "She is my friend and you will respect her as you respect me. And her lips are not crispy. They just get chapped easily because she's a nervous little thing."

" _Your friend?!"_

The blondes are quick to shush her, making the Latina recoil, looking between them with disbelief.

"Why the hell is she your friend? She could be carrying rabies for all we know."

"She's not a dog, Santana."

The second-in-command snorts, narrowing her eyes at Quinn. "Could've fooled me. As far as I've seen you've been trying to domesticate her as your little bitch."

" _San!_ " Brittany exclaims, forgetting where they are.

" _Shhhhhhhhhhhh!_ "

The taller blonde pouts, crossing her arms petulantly at the shorter girls. "Stop calling her that or I _will_ put you on time out." 

Santana gawks. "But—"

Brittany doesn't give her a chance to protest and turns away from her, crossing over to the railing.

Quinn rolls her eyes when Santana scowls at her.

"This is _your_ fault."

"And why is that?"

"Ever since you bought your fucking pet," Santana starts, pushing her finger into the captain's chest, "to the cafeteria she's been talking nonstop about her. You ruined our flow!" Santana spits out, gritting her teeth. 

"They're just _friends_ , S. You know how she gets when someone catches her interest."

Santana's eyes flare as she steps into the blonde's space, teeth out as she whispers. "Listen here, bootleg _Barbie._ That shit you pulled the other day with that damn slushie made my blood boil, but _this?_ Keep your filthy Asian _pup_ on a leash. I don't care if you're boning her into the ground or praying for almighty Christ to let you play house but she better not be thinking about hitting it with Britt-Britt."

The hazel-eyed girl feels the tick in her jaw, but she resorts to a sugary smile before leaning in further, her face inching closer to Santana's. Quinn gulps thickly, throat straining as the backs of her ears flush warm, smelling lavender. Inviting. Enticing. Tempting. Feeling her lips tingle, damn near sensitive, the blonde licks her lips, tongue peeking out to wet the lower muscle. She can't help it when her mouth quirks up as brown eyes slink down to her lips before checking to the side where Brittany stands, back stubbornly facing them. 

Quinn brushes the tip of her nose against Santana's, hearing her breath spill out unevenly. The familiar tension in the lower part of her stomach clenches, feeling her heart thump within her lower lips. She dips her chin, stroking her lips against those that tremble, _brushing_ , but not quite touching like the presence of a butterfly. Santana darts forward, tongue sneaking out to swipe across Quinn's bottom lip. Before the shorter girl can press into her, the blonde turns her head, letting her nose linger on the shell of Santana's ear.

" _Your insecurities are unraveling._ "

Like a ghost, the blonde glides away towards Brittany's side who turns to her. Quinn blinks back when she notices that Brittany's bright blue eyes have darkened significantly along with her cheeks.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, it's—" A shudder visibly passes through the girl, "Just feels warm in here. That's all."

"Okay?" Quinn pats her forearm, but she quirks a brow when the taller blonde jolts under her touch.

Brittany smiles tightly and turns her head back to the stage just as Rachel strides out with a fat grin.

Eyes still suspicious, the Head Cheerio feels Santana sidle next to her on the left which is undoubtedly followed by a glare. Ignoring her, they watch as Mr. Schue recognizes the brunette, greeting her in the process.

After giving her sheet music to the band teacher, Rachel stands in the same spot where Quinn had found her during lunch, except this time the girl is dressed in a nice looking dress shirt and a plain skirt. In her head, the blonde commends her for her willingness to make a good impression, but a part of her thinks that the change of clothing was probably due to getting slushied. 

She winces at this thought.

The only difference this time around is that there's more emotion that's directed through the song and _that_ was saying something given that the blonde had thought she was giving it her all from earlier. 

This was outrageously beautiful.

Quinn glances at Brittany, smiling knowingly when the blonde has a proud smile across her face and her hands twitching, probably itching to clap as loud as she could.

" _I can see why you like her._ "

The blonde's neck snaps to the left, daring the Latina to say something else.

But Santana continues to look at the current auditionee, eyelids low with disinterest. 

Clenching her jaw, the blonde moves to put up a fight, but the other third of the Unholy Trinity stops her, nudging her with an elbow. 

_"It's Kenai!_ " The blonde bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly giddy.

Santana sighs with exasperation, pointedly checking her nails.

Kenai strolls out wearing a different outfit: A pair of khakis, a plain white shirt, and black Chucks on her feet with her hair thrown up in its usual ponytail.

Quinn inhales a sharp breath, throat suddenly dry.

"That's a sight I could get used to," Brittany admits, mouth hanging open.

_She's hot._

"I've seen better," Santana mutters under her breath but is completely disregarded.

"Hey, Tally!" Mr. Schue greets excitedly, having been told beforehand that the girl would be performing a dance and with his experience and appreciation for such art form, he was eager to find out what his student was capable of. 

"Hi, Mr. Schue!" Kenai returns with a nervous smile before turning to the curtains, gauzed hand doing a _come on_ motion.

Echo comes forward hesitantly, carrying sheet music as she stops beside the band teacher who realizes what's happening before scurrying away to where the other auditionees wait, also curious about the last audition. 

"My sister would actually like to be an honorary member if that's okay with you?"

The curly-haired man scrunches his brows. "This is a glee club. There are singing and dancing involved."

Echo steps forward next to her sister who nods. "I can't sing or dance but I'm very good at the piano! And now that I realize that you have your own piano guy maybe I could just hang around and get tips from him? If that would be all right?"

Mr. Schue scratches his jaw. "Would that sit well with you, Brad?" He asks into the microphone. 

Quinn watches as the pianist, Brad the piano player, come out from behind the curtains, raising a thumb in agreement before disappearing again. 

The director claps his hands together, "Well, show me what you ladies got!"

The trio on the balcony angle closer with anticipation.

Echo prepares herself on the bench, nodding at her older sister who winks back.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-oi0gheL0M> (Piano Part)

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IvKVauDroc> (Choreography)

Everyone's jaws hang low as Kenai stares up at the ceiling.

At his desk, Mr. Schue shoots up clapping with all his might, "YESSSSSSSS!"

The other auditionees start clapping as well as they peek out from behind the curtain along with Brad the piano player who nods with silent approval.

Kenai's mouth spreads, grinning from ear to ear before turning around and running to her sister who has proceeded to vigorously jam her fingers against the keys with celebration. Echo lets out a gasp when Kenai suddenly collides with her, arms wounding around her body, squeezing the life out of her.

They both _oof_ when another body hits them. They both peek over their shoulder to see Kurt jumping with joy.

"THE BEST DUO EVER!!!"

White trainers casually stop beside a pair of Chucks.

Kenai smiles, zipping up her bag and throwing it over one shoulder.

Quinn returns it, hands behind her back. "You're very athletic."

"You saw that, huh?"

The blonde nods.

"Thank you." The spectacled girl ducks her head, hands playing with the strap of her backpack.

"I am curious though."

Frowning, the tan girl hums, silently asking for her to continue.

"How did you manage to keep your glasses on during all that?"

Tally smirks before reaching behind her head, revealing a thin black rope. "My retainers were pretty useful."

"Smart."

Kenai nods, shutting her locker door after grabbing the offensive cup in it with Santana’s handwriting, squishing it in the process.

Quinn watches her attentively, the strain of the white shirt visible against a tan bicep. Cursing at herself, the blonde begins again, "You did a great job. Did you choreograph that on your own?"

"Thank you. Yeah, I did." The taller teen nods, blush apparent in her ears before she's frowning, "The movements weren't awkward or anything, were they?"

"I stand by what I said. You did a great job."

"Wow."

"What?" The hazel-eyed girl tilts her head.

"I'm just not used to getting complimented so much."

It's Quinn's turn to smirk. "I'm not used to giving compliments."

They laugh together, but it gets silent when Kenai's eyes start darting all over the place. 

Quinn shifts on her feet, eyeing the Big Quench that had writing on it.

"Sorry for the other day." It comes out in a rush. At Kenai's furrowed brows, Quinn elaborates. "For stealing the cup." She points at it. "It reminds me of the bible verse, Leviticus 6:1-5." The blonde grimaces. _Why am I making bible talk?_

"Oh! Uh, I'm not religious. When you saw me at church the other day I was there because my grandma believes in it. She grew up with a tribe that wasn't open to teaching her their ways so she turned to Catholicism."

"Tribe?"

The spectacled girl hisses through her teeth. "Did I forget to mention I'm part Native American?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"Well, that's the short story." Kenai shrugs. "The tribe was too selfish to teach my family. My parents never forced religion on my sister and I but we were baptized. I know that for a fact, but I never had communion. Maybe I'm an atheist?"

"Do you still want to learn?" 

"I guess. It _would_ be a part of me that I would welcome, but I'm comfortable with what I have."

Quinn hums, but inwardly she was excited that Kenai was opening up to her. "I've been wondering what you were."

"I'm half Filipino, half Mexican. Some Native parts too. Maybe 15%." Kenai drifts off, looking over Quinn's shoulder.

The blonde follows her gaze and stops herself from panicking when Echo and Suzy walk up to them, looking at her curiously. Well, Echo was, but Suzy was a different case, eyeing her.

"Tell your novia to stop insulting me." 

Quinn stares at Echo, looking bewildered as a billion thoughts bowl through her head.

"Your girlfriend?" Echo supplies when the cheerleader doesn't respond.

" _I'm not gay_." Quinn snaps all too quickly.

Kenai flinches, gaze now on the floor.

Echo narrows her eyes at her while Suzy looks at the siblings confused.

The shorter Tally stares at her, face no longer gentle. "Your friend that should be addressed as Satan." The tone has a bite.

"I can't control that. The slushies are as far as I can manage."

Echo purses her lips, a sort of fire in her eyes. 

The silence that continues pricks at Quinn's resolve as she recounts all her words. 

Suzy remains puzzled.

And Kenai?

Kenai wasn't looking at her anymore, moving her attention to scuffing her shoes against the floor.

Feeling like she's overstayed her welcome, the blonde bids them goodbye, ending up feeling chagrin when Kenai only smiles at her briefly, eyes not shrinking into those eye crescents that she has gotten used to.

* * *

Quinn's eyes slightly crinkle when she catches sight of an ebony-haired girl walking in the opposite direction as her. As usual, the girl walks at a steady pace, eyes towards the ground, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone.

"Hey, Tally." She mumbles when they almost brush past each other.

Kenai merely nods at her before continuing on her path, binder pressed to her thigh.

The blonde frowns, stopping in the middle of the hallway as she stares after her. 

A couple of freshmen glare at her, trying to get to their class like good kids, but flinch away when she delivers a scathing look.

Later that Thursday, Quinn rests her elbows on the railing, eyes darting. The brunette is flipping through sheets at the piano, surprisingly not doing what she does best for a living. The spectacled girl sits, arms crossed, focused on something that the blonde can't quite see. But maybe she wasn't meant to see it? Maybe she was lost in thought, head detached from reality.

That's how they all spend their time. One not realizing that she's being watched. Another one is aware of the others. The last one watches, unmindful that her presence has been noted.

After school, she leans with her shoulder resting into the wall, hearing as best as she could with the choir room door closed. 

_And the devil will drag you under_

_By the sharp lapel of your checkered coat,_

_Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down,_

_Sit down you're rockin' the boat._

"Whatcha doin'?"

Startled, the blonde moves away as hastily as she can from the hot breath that had just puffed into her ear.

"What do you want, Puckerman?" She levels him with a glare, lips pursing.

Puck smirks, resting a cocky hand on the wall before slipping a hand into his pocket as well, thumb poking out. "I just wanted to apologize face to face for the other day. I know my manliness was very _hard_ to bear."

Quinn narrows her eyes at him when he leans in an inch closer, trying to lure her in, but she's not buying that crap.

"I believe your sincerities are misplaced. _Step back._ "

Faux pouting, the mohawked boy ducks his head to reach her height. " _Come on_. I know you wanna taste Pucky Puck. My hockey stick isn't too far away."

Quinn rolls her eyes, lip curling with disgust. "Wrong sport. Plus, your name isn't Finn Hudson." She walks away and gets in a few good meters before a hand stops her. 

"It can be in bed, baby." Puck wiggles his brows as Quinn scoffs at him, pushing him roughly when he gets incredibly close.

A door opens and shuts.

They both turn and Rachel has a frustrated look that melds over her features; she shakes her head, walking in their direction, still unaware of their presence before she lifts her chin, eyes widening at the two of them. 

The hazel-eyed girl thanks the interruption but she was counting on it to be Kenai, yet she supposes that Rachel Berry is a much better option than the two gossip mongrels, Kurt and Mercedes. 

When the petite girl continues to stare at them Puckerman shifts in his spot, probably feeling as uncomfortable as the blonde feels at the moment. 

"Enjoying the show, Berry?" Puck sneers, tone barbed.

"N-No, I was just—"

"Staring." Puck stops her, nodding mockingly. "Yeah. I'm surprised those nostrils of yours aren't gaping back at me."

The Cheerio shakes her head to herself before looking at the smaller girl, stopping short when Rachel doesn't seem to have any material to respond with. Brown connects with hazel and for a quick moment, she sees that familiar break behind her eyes. The girl that had sassed back at her through the phone wasn’t present and this disappointed the blonde. As much as the girl didn’t show it, Quinn knew Rachel had a breaking point, her nose was a sensitive topic. Begrudgingly adding to that, as much as Quinn hated to admit it, she had a heart. A relentless one, no doubt.

"I have better things to do than listen to your fragile spews of masculinity." Quinn watches as those eyes stay on her before she's turning to the boy who stares, puzzled. "In layman's terms, your presence isn't welcomed here. Move before I have you removed from the football team."

Puck laughs. 

"You know how the Cheerios work, Puckerman. Who's to say you won't be in firing sight?" Quinn juts her chin out, daring the boy to doubt her.

The football player clenches his jaw. "Killjoy." He mutters weakly before walking away, but not before glaring at the petite brunette. "Expect a green one in the morning, Berry."

Quinn observes how the brunette seems to deflate at the guaranteed slushie attack before blanking when she notices that the blonde is eyeing her.

"Thank you, Quinn."

The blonde tries very hard to disregard the fluttering in her stomach with the way the brunette says her name, so instead of focusing on that reaction, she furrows her brows deliberately, though it doesn't match what she's feeling.

"Whatever," Quinn says this, lacking her usual bite and she curses at herself when Rachel notices this, visibly righting her shoulders.

Both of them stay, not knowing if they should wait for the other to leave.

Rachel continues to stare at her and Quinn starts boiling up again, not liking that it made her feel like she was being prodded under a microscope. 

" _What?_ " She asks, snapping.

The singer shrugs. "That's the most decent thing you've ever done for me."

With no words, Quinn continues staring back, the thick clog in her chest preventing her from moving. She recounts every insult that she has hurled.

Man Hands.

RuPaul.

Treasure Trail.

Stubbles. 

Every insult was the very opposite of what the girl is. She is a beautiful little thing with the voice of an angel that she swears had called to her when she first visited the church, staring up at the stained glass with bright eyes and the stunningly high walls where the echos of voices would curve around.

Lost in thought, she doesn't realize that the brunette is making her own secret rounds of inspecting the expanse of her face.

Blinking, the blonde's nose twitches, remembering who she was talking to. 

"Don't get used to it."

Feet heavy, the hazel-eyed girl walks forward, ramming her shoulder into Rachel's before disappearing down the hall.

Rachel bites her lip thoughtfully before shaking her head once again. "Pity." She says before continuing her storm out.

Unbeknownst to them, Kenai is calmly settled on a wall having heard the exchange.

On a Friday, Quinn only has Rachel to set her sights on, hands shuffling pieces of paper once more. 

There's stiffness that creeps over the blonde's shoulders, mulling over the day as Kenai had chosen to ignore her after passing each other in the hallway. During English, the girl didn't look at her, but that was probably because her seat didn't exactly face her direction. It was starting to formulate in Quinn's mind just how intriguing her thoughts have served her and pushed her to think and think again. As a person who held power, she hadn't bothered herself to consider the feelings of others (except for Brittany; maybe even Santana; and on a guilty occasion, Berry). But now? She was overthinking things. Ruminating! How horrible! 

She had said something to upset Tally. She's not sure what it was but she had said _something_. What had she said? In the time that it had taken her to spend time with the spectacled teenager, she had picked up on the fact that the girl was driven by emotion — which was probably the most reckless thing to be driven by. But she was also a person of reason. Kenai wouldn't be avoiding her just for the heck of it. She must have done something.

_But what?_ Quinn shakes her head, hand coming up to rest her chin in her palm. She had complimented her. She had used flattery. Was that not a thing anymore?

Footfalls tap from the right and her attention jerks, glare steadying. 

The girl looks back at her, not a hint of surprise on her features, nor a hint of joy. Instead, she's met with that same stare that she now realizes is a tapestry of disappointment, a reaction that she should probably have gotten used to by now but it hits different in those dark brown eyes that are shielded by lenses.

Quinn's stern judgment subsides and she replaces it with a smile that falls flat with a frail twitch of the edge of her mouth.

Kenai mirrors the action before turning.

"No. Wait."

Pausing at her place on the staircase, the spectacled teen doesn't turn around, only angling her head so that the blonde could see the side of her face.

"Stay."

Kenai ducks her head.

"Please."

Quinn chews on her lip.

The fact that Kenai had her back turned to her made Quinn go antsy and feel as though her body and mind alike were forcing her to remember every act of harshness in vivid detail from the pits of her childhood. It signified all those people that had deliberately and willfully discouraged her to just be herself. They sought to intimidate her. Saw her like a twig that you could snap in half with the pressure of a foot or the compression from two hands that slipped to the ends, imagining that it was her neck that they were snapping in half. 

Not a word passes by.

But Kenai moves, plastic bag wrinkling against her jeans as she closes the distance between them, not sparing the blonde a glance. She chooses to sit against the corner of the balcony, having a good view through the squares that complete the barriers of the red-orange railing.

Minding her own business, the ebony-haired girl begins opening her plastic bag before unrolling her lunch from its foil packaging.

Quinn observes her, taking note of the teen's delicate movements, picking up a sandwich that consisted of two slices of whole white bread, egg, and bacon — a smell that the blonde realizes she's missed.

About to take a bite, the brown-eyed girl looks up at her, giving the blonde questioning double brow raises.

"Do you want some?"

Already feeling herself salivate, the cheerleader shakes her head. "No thanks. I'm on a diet."

Kenai squints her eyes and it catches Quinn in a state of slight puzzlement at the attention.

"What?"

"You need a diet?"

Quinn nods.

"Really?" She asks, disbelievingly as she inspects for herself, eyes dragging over Quinn's body.

The blonde is aware that the girl's purpose was entirely innocent, but she feels the heat flush up against her neck, spreading all over her face.

"You look perfectly fine to me." 

Quinn stares down at the girl who gazes right back at her blankly. "Thanks."

Humming, the girl shrugs one shoulder as if what she just said hadn't made the blonde feel tingly. But she didn't need to know that.

"Don't thank me for something true." She goes to bite into her sandwich but stops short again, staring at its contents mindfully before she's staring up at Quinn again with a piece of bacon pointing limply at her.

"No." Her stomach says _yes_.

"Why not? Are you a vegetarian?"

"No."

"Are you allergic to bacon?"

"Definitely not."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm on a diet."

Kenai stares at her in a deadpan manner. "I'm sure a piece of bacon has less than a hundred calories. You can burn _more_ than a hundred sitting down."

The trilingual teen doesn't relax her stare, so Quinn does what she's good at and fixes her a look right back, expecting her to relent without a challenge. It proves to be a tough task when Kenai doesn't back down. The blonde finds it ridiculous that she's stooping to the level of children with their staring contest. After a whole minute, the tan girl still hasn't blinked and Quinn feels her eyes stinging.

"Give me that." She says bitterly, snatching the strip of meat from Kenai's outstretched hand as the girl smirks at her.

"Sorry, Fabray. I've had too much experience with my sister for you to beat me that easily."

The blonde groans in response before biting into the bacon, resisting the urge to sigh. _It's been too long, my friend._ "I hate you."

"Do you? Do you really?" 

The Cheerio scoffs at her but she can tell that Kenai didn't believe her one bit with that tiny smirk of hers. They eat in silence, both watching as Rachel stands center stage now, head ducked as though she was meditating. 

Kenai presses herself up into an upright position, now beside the blonde with their elbows inches from each other, "You enjoy her singing too?" She inquires, hands patting the crumbs from her gauze.

Brows furrowed, the head cheerleader turns to her. "It's tolerable." 

Head jolting back, the spectacled girl squints. "Tolerable? Your actions make that hard to believe."

"Are you implying that I'm a liar?"

"No. But I do wonder why it's only tolerable — which means that it must be something you have to endure. Which would suggest that it's something that you find painful to hear. Yet, for some weird reason . . . you've been up on this balcony since Tuesday."

Hazel eyes bug out. "You knew?" _Oh no . . . does she know that she's looked at her several times?_

Kenai smiles softly but doesn't reply.

Feeling her blush worsen, the blonde asks hastily, trying to get the attention off her, "What about you then?" When Quinn receives a tilted head in response the blonde elaborates, "Why were you just sitting there?"

The dark-haired girl opens her mouth, but retreats, exhaling instead. "On the first day of school, I stumbled across this place and I decided to stay. You must know by now that I'm terrified of the cafeteria. I uh— she came in all of a sudden. And then she sang this song. "Dust in the Wind," I think. It was so sad, but it was comforting. Plus, this place is so quiet and so empty of people."

"Except for her and me." 

Kenai hums, playing with her fingers. "I don't mind. She sings. Free entertainment."

"What about me then? Does my being here bother you?"

"I—" Kenai sighs.

A sting pulses through her heart at that. Was she that bad at making friends? Quinn studies the tension around the girl's mouth, the outline of her jaw becomes more apparent as she clenches her teeth. "You've been ignoring me." There it is. 

She can feel the girl go rigid.

"Tell me." Quinn urges her. "Why?"

"I've been having a bad day."

"That's not like you," Quinn admits to her, thinking of the moments they've had together. "Even if there was something bothering you, you wouldn't be rude enough to ignore a simple hello unless I did something."

The blonde notes how the girl avoids looking at her and she's sure now that she's lying.

"You're nice."

Quinn pulls a face, looking as though she had a stroke. "Excuse me?" Her? Nice? Kenai has to do better than that to change the subject but it doesn't stop her curiosity from running rampant.

"No, I'm not." She mumbles to herself.

"Why'd you help the girl out?" Tally nods to the stage.

Help? Quinn helped her? When? "You mean Berry?"

"Berry?"

"Rachel Berry. The midget on the stage."

Kenai hums with consideration. "So that's her name."

Quinn doesn't have a clue about what to feel when she hears that odd tone in the girl's voice. 

" _I NEED CHALLENGE!!!_ "

The two teenagers jolt, turning towards the stage as Rachel stares up at the ceiling with both arms stretched out, begging for some sort of sign.

"But there are so many songs to choose from."

The blonde rolls her eyes at the brunette's dramatics. "She probably ran out of ideas from posting so many videos of herself singing on MySpace." Quinn doesn't think about what her words meant when she said them, but as she glances at Kenai, the little shine behind black-framed glasses say otherwise. Talk about a lightbulb moment.

"What?"

"Do you have paper?"

"Yeah?" Quinn asks, squatting to pick up her English binder by her feet, unlatching the rings and handing the tan girl a loose-leaf.

"What's her MySpace name?"

"Stalker much?"

Kenai blushes and as hard as it can be seen, the blonde looks at the other girl's ears, noting how bright they were. Huffing, the hazel-eyed girl gives her a break, knowing that she shouldn't put more strain on their acquaintanceship? She gives the multiracial girl an answer and watches her struggle, attempting to write on the paper in her left palm. 

"Here." The Head Cheerio hands the spectacled girl her binder, getting excited when those eyes make crescent shapes at her again.

Shoulders quite lighter now, the blonde grins to herself.

Kenai pulls a pen from her pocket before she finishes only to give the blonde a sheepish look. "Can I have another sheet of paper please?"

After Kenai gets what she needs, the blonde alternates looking from Rachel to Kenai, only stopping when she gets a glimpse of what the older Tally is listing.

_The Search Is Over_

_Crazy On You_

_More Than Words_

_Say You Love Me (Fleetwood Mac)_

_You're Beautiful_

_So What (P!nk)_

_Runaway_

_Kiss Me_

_There She Goes_

_Iris_

_On My Way (from the Brother Bear soundtrack)_

_Man! I Feel Like A Woman!_

_P.S. You should do all the Fleetwood Mac songs._

"Those song choices make me think you're in love with her."

Kenai glares at her so heatedly that it makes the blonde flinch, completely flabbergasted by this uncharacteristic look from the girl that she looks away in a pliant manner. Her reaction is engraved into her head. Such a negative response to a sapphic insinuation. A rock plummets into the linings of her stomach when she starts heading down the thought process that Kenai could possibly be . . . homophobic.

"They're just songs." She clarifies, tone clipped short. Her stare is implacable that it burns into Quinn like acid before the girl is apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry. My mood fluctuates a lot when I'm tired. Here." She hands Quinn back her belongings who hesitantly takes it, still stuck on that phobic chance. "You add some."

"What? I don't—"

At the look that's shot at her, the blonde takes the pen from Kenai, afraid that she'll get burned at the stake if she doesn't.

_Keep Holding On_

She hands her back the sheet.

"Really? That's it?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's _something_."

Kenai rolls her eyes before huffing dejectedly. "I guess that'll have to do." She mutters before turning around and making her way down the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm just gonna throw it away in the trash after all our hard work." Kenai grins at her before bounding down the steps.

"That cheeky little—" Quinn shakes her head before going back to the balcony, eyeing how Rachel paces the length of the stage.

Not a minute later when Rachel starts walking away from the piano, Tally's figure slips over to the stringed instrument, squat walking by the assist of a single hand and a pair of feet as the other one clutches at their shared work.

As much as she opposes the idea, it was a pretty sweet sentiment. She hunches forward when Rachel spins around at the same time Kenai ducks, falling into a crouch underneath the piano.

"She's really treating this like Mission: Impossible." She murmurs to herself, trying to get a view of her companion? Associate? No, that's too formal.

She's left amused when Tally's arm peeks out, stretching from underneath the instrument, ditching the paper on the bench before booking it with large steps when Rachel swivels.

Quinn feels Kenai's elbow brush hers on the railing, stifling her urge to slide closer. 

"You just made her day." The blonde says after a long moment, drinking in how Rachel rushes over, noticing the paper that wasn't there before.

Kenai, who faces away from the auditorium asks: "How do you know?"

" _THANK YOU WHOEVER YOU ARE!!!_ "

"Well," Kenai smiles gently as she shifts around, "That wasn't all me." She nudges Quinn, a tingling sensation spreading over her arm and down her spine.

Quinn raises a mocking brow, back a bit sensitive with goosebumps.

"I only wrote one song."

"It's a good song." Kenai gasps at her. "Who knows?" She shrugs, nodding her chin up once teasingly. "She might sing it to you one day."

The blonde shakes her head before turning back to the stage. 

_I doubt it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unrelated to the story, but have you guys watched The Hollow on Netflix? Season 2 came out and I watched everything! I ship Adam and Reeve, just saying. I legit thought they were exes the entire time.
> 
> As you know, any form of commentary will be appreciated!!!
> 
> Are things making sense? I feel like I'm losing sight of characterization when regarding the characters. The eavesdropping scene threw me off because I'm so used to writing everyone's facial expressions. Does my writing seem like it’s getting less mature? My inspiration is burning out.


	7. Reassure These Qualms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts from Season 1 x Episode 1 (aka Pilot) will show up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is not a reflection of what I think Indigenous people do; this is just a plot of the story and I apologize if this offends anyone. This is purely fake stuff. It's all fiction.
> 
> I also apologize if I'm taking longer to update. My grandfather is teaching me how to drive every Sunday so I'm very excited about that. But let's cross our fingers that I'll be extra hardworking during the summertime.
> 
> Warning: I still have no clue how MySpace works; there's content that I won’t mention because it’s a surprise
> 
> Word Count: 15,610 (I BROKE MY RECORD)
> 
> Posted On: 6/12/2020

_"Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up."_

_\- Robert Frost_

* * *

On that same Friday, the after school bustling of students throughout the halls are what a certain spectacled girl takes a survey of, but not fixating too much until her mind pays engrossed note of other things: studying shoes that pass her view of the ground; listening to that girl bragging about her new iPhone; hearing the sounds of feet slapping hard against the school's floors; watching those feet belong to three boys who rush down the halls in a game of dog, cat, and mouse; smiling when those boys get scolded down the hall by a teacher that storms out of their classroom, no doubt hearing the ruckus; noticing how a couple of senior students are whispering to each other while pointedly looking in Suzy's direction.

Echo steps forward at Suzy's other side as the brunette continues to shuffle in her locker, not realizing or maybe plainly ignoring the duo. The younger Tally glares at the two chatterboxes who seem to notice that they've been caught redhanded for something they hadn't been remotely subtle about.

Not a moment longer the girls fall silent, but they keep their eyes locked between Echo and Suzy until they simultaneously nail down on Kenai who has her arm crossed, watching them with a flat expression, knowing exactly what the manner of their conversation was.

She was the type to falter at attention, to get antsy when she shares eye contact with a stranger, fearing the worst outcome that they'll think she's some kind of weirdo that stares at people just for the hell of it.

But in moments where people were just outwardly bad and spiteful, she just _has_ to screw with them, a sort of encouragement driven by her constant awareness that she plays things too safe or by the rush of anger for stupid assholes that she had let build from the furnace inside of her from previous experience.

Kenai continues to stare, only letting her eyes move like that of those creepy paintings in an episode of Scooby-Doo where the figure of the portrait has had their eyes cut out to be replaced with new aware ones.

The two teenagers tense, speedwalking as one of them gives her a weirded out glance.

Echo gives a half-suppressed laugh. "I love it when you do that." 

Kenai shakes her head with a smile tugging at her lips, connecting her fist to Echo's outstretched one, offering a fist bump.

Suzy shuts her locker, turning to both of them with a frown. "Was it two girls?"

"Yeah? How'd you figure?" Echo shares a look with the older Tally.

"One was a big breasted redhead and the other had trashy pigtails, right?"

The sisters nod, glancing at each other again.

"They've been P.I.T.A.'s to me all of last year." She growls under her breath before she's stomping to the middle of the hallway. "YOU TWO CAN SUCK IT!!!" Suzy yells down the hall, not caring about her volume as her gossipmongers spin around to look at her with wide eyes before speed walking out of the exit. 

Kenai gets uncomfortable when it draws everyone's stares to them. "Okay. Calm down please." She softly takes Suzy's wrist into her grasp, pulling her down the opposite way as the students step back as if their sudden movements would set the already rattled girl off. 

"P.I.T.A.? What does that mean?" Echo asks from Kenai's other side.

"Pain in the ass." Suzy huffs.

"And I thought I had anger issues," Kenai mutters to herself, eyeing Pepper before sliding on a white baseball cap onto her head, brushing strands of loose hair into the hat after slipping her ponytail into the hole at the back. "You made sure to tell your parents that you're coming over?"

"Yup." A second later her stomach gurgles. "Do you have food? I'm so hungry that I could eat a butt." 

Echo shakes her head at the taller girl, not at all bothered by her words. "You're into anal, huh?"

Kenai blushes at their crassness before falling back a step as to not be associated with them. She slings her backpack over her front, taking out a bag of Oishi chips before tossing it underhanded at Suzy who had turned around to walk backward. Pepper fumbles, dropping it only for Echo to catch it before it hits the ground. 

"Have you ever watched the movie, _Alive?_ " She asks them both, looking at Echo before doing a double-take; she scowls at the freshman who has opened the bag and taken it for herself, munching away happily.

"I own ink so." Echo's words garbled as she talks with her mouth full.

The other two share an exasperated look in regards to the freshman before Kenai nabs the red packaging from the curly-haired girl's grubby hands, plucking out a handful for herself and then handing it to Suzy who smiles graciously. 

Echo, infuriated, sticks her tongue out at both of them.

Suzy rolls her eyes. "In the movie, there's a plane that crashes in the Andes mountains. There were casualties. People died. Yada yada. So when the food ran out guess what they ate."

" _Ass_." Echo supplies, dragging out the word with a satisfied grin on her face.

"Exactly."

"You're not a cannibal though." Kenai rushes in. "Right?" The last thing that she needs is to wake up in bed with all her intestines hanging out of her body like those poor college students on the news.

" _No_." Suzy frowns at her, handling the idea with much offense before flicking a fry looking chip into her mouth, eyes shining bright all of a sudden. "Oh my God! This tastes so _gooooood_!" 

Echo snatches it, shoving more into her mouth. "Ake at!"

Suzy glares at her nastily before a suspicious smile creeps onto her lips. "But if I had to stoop to such means then . . ." 

Her words fade away as she licks her lips as her fingers readjust her glasses, eyes trawling Echo's figure before settling on a butt.

"I'd have to eat yours, oh sweet Echo." The cheeky teen suddenly slaps the aforementioned girl's butt.

"AH!" Echo jolts before stumbling away as Suzy gives chase.

Kenai blinks, replaying what she saw in her head. Is Suzy gay for her sister? She hides a smile before ultimately rolling her eyes when she hears Echo's wails down the corridor. Her foot reaches forward to catch up to them, but she falters.

A prickle at the back of Kenai's neck badgers her as if an invisible hand had plucked her collar (which she momentarily recalls Quinn doing) and it has her twisting her head just in time for her jaw to unhinge at the whammy.

The sight of a red letterman jacket makes her eye twitch.

Mohawked boy. 

Green.

_When you only got a hundred years to live._

Rachel Berry.

The singer is covered in a hideous green, brown hair covered with mush as glops slide down her face, her expression a single shot of confoundment.

What happens next astounds the Oregonian. 

Rachel tilts her chin up defiantly before striding away as though she hadn't been attacked.

She advances still.

Her chemistry partner comes out of the adjoined hall where it houses McKinley's trophy case. "Rachel!" Brittany hurries after the brunette, glaring at the mohawked boy before her eyes shift to the side, catching Kenai a little ways behind him.

Kenai dips her head once and Brittany nods back, the grimmest expression the native has ever seen on her.

The cheerleader channels all her anger into scowling at the boy before she goes after the petite girl.

Worrying her bottom lip, Kenai takes a moment, her moral compass quivering in the direction that the two girls had gone off to. 

Rather than riding the arrow and appeasing its tremors, the instrument is left untouched as Kenai turns around, a nagging itch yanking at her and convincing her to come back for what it quakes for.

In the stories that Kenai's mother had read to her as a child (while Echo had damn right passed out before it even began), the hero would follow their instincts, to attempt their hand at pacification for such a persistent pull only for that tug to lead towards a more tremendous calling of messier events.

To a great degree, Kenai believes that she's not a hero, not even in her own story.

So she lets that itch heave at her with all it's imaginary might, shunning it as much as she can.

At the end of the day, it's her defense mechanism. She's gone so far with her ignorance that she has "forgotten" many things from her past. The parts that _matter_ the most to her. It wasn't about getting called every single name in the book. It wasn't about getting looked at in the dirtiest way possible. It wasn't even about getting hit in the head with a baseball bat or even about how it had ended up with her in the hospital.

It was about Abigail Weld.

_Fuck her._

Kenai's chest clenches.

After catching up to the two troublemakers (finding Echo with her back desperately pressed into the school's brick wall and away from Suzy's wandering hands), she walks behind them as they babble on and on about _Real Housewives of New Jersey_. It's a conversation that she's sure as hell not interested in and she doesn't quite understand why they're so obsessed with the show. She's glad that they don't try to include her in it. That would be a waste of time. After all, she was more of a _How I Met Your Mother_ kind of gal.

In the face of it all, her moral compass was still jittery.

There she goes again with that thinking process, building the fire up under it just so it'll get extinguished by cold water.

But there was that spiteful part of her (everyone has one), that believed Rachel may have deserved it.

Karma.

Currently, Kenai was at war with herself with how she sees the brunette. It's weird. Once the girl opened her mouth for other than singing, her entire idea of the girl being nice had gotten extinguished, flying up in a steamy heap of disappointment.

Rachel Berry had been insensitive and thoughtless about her words.

She remembers what had been directed at Artie Abrams after they had finished their disastrous number of "Sit Down You’re Rockin’ The Boat." It was so bogus that the girl had thought Mr. Schue giving the lead solo to a boy in a wheelchair was ridiculous. Ultimately, she was saying without needing to say it that Artie can't possibly be good enough. What a load of bullshit.

Kenai didn't like that. 

Her scowl takes on a frown, established out of guilt.

On the first day of school, she had left Rachel Berry in the temporary wolf den that was the girls' bathroom, with the predator role being traded off between Lopez and sadly, maybe Quinn. She hadn't forced herself to stay even if she knew that there was a more than an unpleasant event that had gone on in that bathroom. Kenai has a way of making things seem worse than they are. A pessimistic quality of hers that she wants to drown. 

But what does that say about the company she keeps? 

What does that say about herself?

She chose to go up to that balcony, knowing that Quinn Fabray had been there for a few days, alternating between watching her and the brunette. She was a little late that day, so she had no choice but to go up, crossing her fingers and praying that the blonde wouldn't be up there, but at the same time, the weird part of her had hoped (which she'd refuse to admit aloud).

Indeed, she had been ignoring Quinn, but in all actuality, it had been a difficult effort. For all she wanted to do was greet her back. But then she'd hear that tone that had snapped along the shells of her ears, truly offended and vexed at what her sister had jokingly said. It was ugly and the way Quinn's delicate face had pulled back like a rottweiler at the suggestion of Santana Lopez being her girlfriend.

" _I'm not gay_."

She had shriveled up and died on the inside when Quinn had spat that out. You can't help but come to the conclusion that the blonde could be a homophobe — add in the cross that she religiously wore on her neck. It depressed her thinking about not talking to the blonde anymore, that their friendship would end before it could take off and ascend to lifetime partnership; after all, she has been one of the reasons why she began caring for socializing. Better than being cooped up in the house all day and all night. 

Quinn was a puzzle.

The pieces that made her were one of those three hundred pieces that made Kenai's head split with a raging headache; it was a puzzle where the main figure had colors that seemed to blend in and all the pieces looked the same but they were incredibly different. 

Quinn wasn't migraine-inducing. But she raised too many questions in Kenai's head.

Was she truly nice? Or was this all a ploy to hurt her? To get her to open up and once she was putty in her hands she would get whiplash from being dragged back into reality and that every single part of it had been a disgusting lie? That's the tough part, isn't it?

Letting yourself feel vulnerable and putting all your trust into a person.

To believe in something you cannot see.

Suzy's a different story. She was forthcoming about her pain. So bitter. So blunt. Her story was too specific to be fake. Maybe it was because of her resting bitch face but Suzy was open about her sorrows. She didn't exactly hide it. It was all in the eyes. The glaring. The frowns. The scowls. The yelling at people no matter if it garnered attention like earlier.

However, there are just some people who are better at hiding it.

Maybe Rachel had pain.

Maybe Quinn had pain.

Maybe Brittany.

Lopez had it.

It's very easy to be judgemental until you know someone's truth.

Kenai notices her bladder. _All that thinking makes me wanna take a leak._

A force knocks her backward, making her step into the grass.

" _Tag! You're it!_ "

Kenai glares at the curly-haired girl who follows after Suzy who's already a good distance away.

The spectacled girl shakes her head before taking off after them.

* * *

"No. NO. _NOOOOOOO!_ "

Echo throws her Uno cards onto the kitchen island, a few of her cards sliding off the countertop.

"Stop cheating!" The freshman points an accusatory finger at them. 

"We're not cheating." Kenai stares at her flatly, slurping on a spoon of chicken noodle soup. It was a good thing that Nanay doesn't get home until later that night or else she'd be glaring at her younger sister to shut the fuck up. 

"I'm pretty sure you just suck balls at this game." Suzy rubs her eyes, glasses positioned at the top of her head with her bandana tied around her forehead like Rambo.

Echo gasps. "Well if _someone,_ " She glares at her sister, "actually shuffled the deck right we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Kenai gives her a dirty look. "I shuffled it perfectly, excuse you. Blame yourself. You're the one that passed out the cards."

"Talk to my middle finger." Echo does as she says.

"Hey, middle finger!" Kenai decides to humor the girl. "Shove yourself up your owner's butthole 'cause she's being a fucking idiot."

Echo growls.

Suzy sighs, hiding her face in her bandana. "I'm in a nightmare." She murmurs at the tragedy in front of her before deciding to have a look-see at Kenai's cards, who doesn't seem to notice the little cheat.

* * *

"Penis."

Kenai slaps her forehead before furiously scribbling over her drawing as Echo holds the timer, staring at a square of paper with a word written on it.

"Hairy penis." Suzy claps her hands together as if she finally understood what the drawing was.

"And time!"

"How the fuck is this a penis?" Kenai stares at her, brows furrowed as she studies her drawing.

The brunette shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest as she shuffles into the couch when the siblings turn to look at her. "The tip looks like the head and the circles at the bottom look like furry testicles." She shrugs as Echo cackles with glee.

"That's supposed to be a _bullet_ after getting shot." Kenai shrieks.

Suzy shrugs again, unphased.

"I'm done." Kenai throws up her hands, marker flying out of her hand as Echo catches it from behind her.

The spectacled girl sends her body onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as Echo sets herself on the coffee table.

"Thank you, guys. For inviting me." Suzy picks at her fingernails, unwilling to show how insecure she was with her addition to the Tallys. "It's been a long time since I've socialized with people my age aside from my group therapy sessions."

The older sibling lifts the corner of her mouth before she looks to Echo for a second, wondering how she takes that personal fact.

"Thanks for putting up with our horse shit." Echo snorts, but Kenai could sense a probe trailing circles throughout her sister's head. The freshman softly punches her sister's bicep as Kenai bats her away with a smile. "We could get _pretty_ rowdy."

"How was that like growing up? I'm an only child so the concept of having a sibling is foreign to me."

The multiracial sophomore looks up at her sister, smirking in unison, sharing a flash of memories. "Well, we spent our childhood on the Table Rock Reservation."

"Reservation? That means you guys are natives?" Suzy looks between them as if seeing them for the first time.

"Yup." Echo nods. "We don't wear buckskin or do big-game hunting or anything though in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't thinking about that at all." Suzy looks at her confused. "That's severely stereotypical."

Kenai scoffs, planting her head onto her forearms. "You'd be surprised how bad people can be. I remember a time during middle school when a bunch of my classmates threw underwear at me because they thought that I wore a loincloth under all my clothes."

Suzy frowns. 

"The other kids called me Tripping Bull whenever a teacher wasn't around." Echo scowls, grabbing the basket beside her, shredding the paper inside as a therapeutic thing for her. "I'm a klutz." 

"Were there any fond memories at least?" In her mind, the brunette cursed at all those people that had treated the siblings with ill will. She wouldn't wish it on anyone (except for those who deserve it).

"The only good memories we have is with our family. Except for Kenai."

"What do you mean?" Kenai looks up at her.

"You were dancing at the supermarket and that dance teacher lady saw you and invited you to dance and ended up teaching you for free."

Kenai blushes. "Oh, man. That was embarrassing." She turns to her sister. "You had exceptions too, ya know? You made the music teacher love you with all your Beethoven tricks."

Suzy smiles at the sisters' mushy moment before she recounts what the younger Tally said. "Except? Didn't the other members on the reservation treat you well?"

"They're shitheads." Echo scrunches her nose. "They literally put us at the very edge of the land so no one would come across us. If they did that they certainly didn't bother teaching us anything about our heritage."

"That's so horrible! Why?"

"Because we're mixed kids. We have Filipino and Mexican blood flowing through our veins that's why they think we're not pure enough for the indigenous ways." Kenai wiggles her fingers as if explaining voodoo. 

"But that's discrimination!"

Kenai sighs.

Echo grunts. "If there was one good thing that came out of it was that they never checked our house to see if we were home because the elders and the councilmembers thought our presence would corrupt everyone else."

The older Tally snickers, knowing where she was going with this. "Yeah. We used to sneak out and hide in the shadows whenever there were midnight tribal meetings about the ancestors."

"They would tell stories about how the generations from long ago were destined to be protectors of the land. And to be protectors, the spirit within man would awaken and take the form of an animal," Echo explains.

"So a spirit guide?" Suzy asks.

"Now that I'm hearing it again it sounds like something out of _Twilight_." Kenai mulls on that thought.

"I love that movie!"

"I despise that movie." Suzy frowns at Echo.

Kenai looks between them as they stare each other down. "Eh. The baseball scene was my favorite part of the entire thing."

"Anyways!" Echo glares at Suzy who simply rolls her eyes before continuing, "They said the spirit's been dead for a while. But there _is_ a prophecy that is still believed to happen one of these days. A specific group of the tribe's members would evoke the powers of the spirit in unity and in trust to ward off those who seek harm. The twist is that there are another rare few within that specific group who possess a sacred bloodline who would be gifted with the ability to transcend further than those whose spirits were evoked because their being which holds the spirit would also be touched by the essence of the moon."

" _OWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ "

Echo and Suzy turn towards the tall girl who continues howling.

The spectacled girl finally stops, noticing their attention. "What? Sounds like wolfy stuff to me." After a moment the older sister turns to look at her younger sibling. "That's it?"

Echo draws her brows together. "What do you mean _that's it?_ "

Kenai grumbles at her. "Well, from the bonfires that I've snuck in on, the head councilmember said that there were two distinct forms. For those who possess the spirit that's above average the form that he would take on would be that of a regular animal. Say he became a lion. He would be the same size as a regular great cat. But those who have a greater spirit — like level two type shit — then he who has the greater spirit would be greater the size of a lion. He would be a giant one. Same height as an SUV. As for the sacred bloodline that you were talking about," Kenai points at her shorter sister, "The form is still unknown."

Echo nods at her appreciatively. 

"Wait just a second. Why do you keep saying _he_?"

"There's never been a record of a female tribe member turning into a protector. It was always the males. Which is kinda crud." Kenai crosses her arms with a pout.

Echo scowls. "Women can do what men can do."

"No offense but the people on your rez suck major cock though," Suzy tells them earnestly.

"Interesting choice of vocabulary." Kenai slides her head into the couch to stare up at Pepper who just puffs up her cheeks with air as if saying 'I don't care.' "None taken. We share the same opinion."

Odd silence takes over. And they look at one another unsurely. 

"What do we do now?" Echo looks between them, humming a song to distract herself.

After a few seconds, Kenai suddenly bolts up, racing up the stairs.

Echo and Suzy glance at each other.

In record time, Kenai bounds back down and vaults over the couch with her laptop in hand.

"Nice stickers," Suzy says dryly, eyeing the military ones with distaste, meaning _all_ of them.

"Thanks." She quickly logs in before handing it over to Suzy who narrows her eyes at the screen.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Make a MySpace account."

Suzy scrunches her nose, detesting that idea.

"Why?"

"I need a favor and you would be making someone. Very. _Happyyyyyyyyyyy_." Kenai blinks at her, grinning innocently as she breaks into a singsongy voice.

"Ew." Immediately communicating her aversion to the suggestion. "Why on _earth_ would I do such a thing?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Suzy continues to give her a vacant look.

Kenai deflates at her lack of enthusiasm. "You said the same thing along those lines a few days ago if you don't remember." She rubs her hands over her gauze and Suzy follows her movements, a triumphant _woohoo_ going off in her ears when Suzy's roughened features smooth out a bit. "Pretty please." Kenai gets uncomfortably close, despite her irritation for popping her bubble; if she wants something so bad she'll ignore the unsettling shrew in the pits of her stomach for it.

Pepper's lips pinch as she frowns at Kenai's brown eyes, pulling that stupid puppy dog look. A terrible croak rises from the back of the girl's throat. Kenai responds by coming even closer.

Closer.

_Closerrrrrrrr_.

"Fine! Fine! Get away from me!" Suzy despairs, feeling deeply offended by those brown balls of unsophisticated naivety that she wants to poke mercilessly, Three Stooges style.

Kenai makes a triumphant sound, shoulders shimmying before slowly turning to her sister, her mouth widening in the same offsetting pace at her sister.

The curly-haired girl groans, recognizing that evil twinkle in Kenai's eyes.

"Let me think of a damn name first." Echo grumbles, snatching a pen. 

"Okay, what's next?" The younger Tally turns the laptop for Kenai to see.

Kenai takes the device into her lap as Suzy peeks over her shoulder. "Why are you on Barbra Streisand's page?" The girl with light frames hisses at the other spectacled teen.

"I just feel bad for her. Maybe I also noticed how she gets treated at school so I thought having you guys help me comment nice things on her videos would make her feel better." Kenai looks at them with a sheepish smile, scratching her neck. "Please."

Echo smiles at her sadly.

Suzy crosses her arms.

"You want to pop this girl's berries don't you?"

Echo and Kenai share an alarming gulp.

Kenai opens her mouth and nothing wants to leap out and save her from her silence. "Uh. I'm. I'm not—"

She starts feeling her chest clog up as though a heavy boot had pressed into it, attempting to break the bones inside her body. She remains frozen as she stares at Suzy's undecipherable face, not at all feeling confident in herself when the brunette looks at her with frozen hardness. Oh. Oh no. She knows. She knows. Oh my God. If she knew, then everyone else probably knew! Oh God! No. No. No. No. No. This is bad. She won't accept her. She'll tell everyone. They'll have to move again. Why couldn't she have more careful? All that preparing in her head for moments like this and she can't say anything to save her hide. Quinn would surely know. She'll look at her like a dirty sinner. Brittany would look at her. It'll give Santana more ammo. Everyone would look.

Staring.

Laughing.

Whispering.

She won't be safe anymore.

_Echo_ won't be safe anymore. 

_What have I done?!_

"Hey. _Hey_." Suzy and Echo shake her, grabbing onto her gauze-wrapped hands.

"You don't have to lie, Kenai." Suzy sighs before uncrossing her arms and putting one over Kenai's shoulders hesitantly, feeling the other girl flinch harshly before relaxing into her embrace albeit still stiff. "I'm not homophobic, just so you two know."

Echo gives her a shocked look, leaning forward to place her elbows on her knees. "You're okay with us being the way we are?"

Suzy blinks, taken aback. "Oh! That's a surprise. Both of you are homosexual?"

Kenai winces, having a weird dislike for that word, fidgeting with her hands as she refuses to look at the two other occupants of the room.

"Kenai is. I'm bi."

Suzy nods, squeezing Kenai's shoulder who still stares at her hands with tight brows. "But to answer your question, yes, I'm okay with it. Sexuality shouldn't be something to base a person's character on. My uncle is gay. And I don't mind it one bit."

A part of Kenai is relieved but the irrational and more imaginative part of her had been expecting some sort of development that she would have to come out to Suzy eventually like in the movies. But she can't exactly complain. In a time during 2009, people just had to be careful with who they were. Maybe one day she could be casual about who she was, that every part of her will always want women in the way that others say that you should only want men. That you should want Neo instead of Trinity. But she preferred Trinity all the way (that's why she's been writing fanfiction about it). Or that she had a crush on Gwen from _Sky High_ even if she ended being evil at the end. Or how she may have gotten struck in the heart by an arrow because of Susan Pevensie's excellent marksmanship.

"He's my favorite uncle actually," Suzy continues as Kenai blinks, thoughts still running through her mind, "He's the only relative outside of my family that still treated me the same when they found out that I tried to harm myself."

Echo, who hadn't known about this, gasps sharply. 

"Oh, right," Suzy remembers herself and looks to Kenai who nods back at her in support, bringing herself to look up. "I had consumed the world's hottest pepper because the guy that I liked rejected me. The short story is I burned my esophagus so bad that I had to get a transplant and I'm participating in therapy, which I mentioned earlier."

"I'm so sorry," Echo says, voice hushed.

"Don't be. I'm getting better. Being in your combined company for the past few days has helped." Suzy purses her lips.

Kenai smiles to herself. She accepts her. She won't tell anyone. They won't have to move again. "Oh, come on." Kenai nudges her, the weight in her chest much lighter. "You can do better than that! Give me a big smile." Kenai grins as Echo follows her example, turning to the girl who stares back with reluctance.

Suzy grimaces, one of her eyes twitching.

"On second thought, don't ever smile at me ever again."

"Shut up, jerk!" The brunette shoves Kenai's shoulder whose lips shake.

"Aw!" Echo exclaims. "You guys!" The youngest of the three shoots forwards, falling into Suzy's lap as her arms wind around their necks.

They groan at the extra weight.

Kenai moves her laptop, discreetly wiping the tears that wanted to fall as she puts Echo's legs in her lap before placing the device on her sister.

"Ugh." Suzy gives Echo an incredulous look who merely wraps her arms around the sophomore's neck tighter. "When I said I was going to come over it was because I expected less touching."

"Too late. You're with us now."

Kenai rolls her eyes at them with an exasperated smile across her lips. 

Suzy gripes under her breath before sighing. "Look, I promise I won't tell anyone about you two. It's the last thing I want to do."

"Good job." Kenai simply pats the hand on her shoulder.

"YES! Gay duo and ally on three." Echo sticks her hand out, waiting for the other two to put their hands in. They don't. "No?" The question hangs with eloquent dismay, knowing full well what the response was going to be.

"No."

The brunette scoffs before smirking at the older sibling after peeking curiously at the screen where Wannabe Streisand was paused. "I still can't believe you like that windbag." The shorter sophomore nods towards the lit device.

Kenai puffs out an annoyed breath. "Who? Rachel?"

Suzy nods.

"I don't like her or dislike her _that_ much. She said some things that bothered me and I get easily annoyed by the stupid shit people say, but it's still too early to tell."

Echo hums before sucking in her bottom lip which could only mean that she's thinking hard about something. " _Okay_. What about Quinn?"

"What about her?" She asks stupidly.

"Do you like her?" Echo shakes her head low into a _duh_ motion before adding, "As in _like like_ her?"

Kenai's pulse speeds up. She is a warmblooded gay girl who has eyes. Of course, the idea of Quinn was attractive. She was nice (she hopes she's also genuine). But she can't do that. Don't even go down that path; it was a danger considering how imaginative Kenai was. That's how people start having crushes. You get goaded by your friends and the next thing you know you're thinking about the possibility of it happening.

No.

She's just looking for friends who don't run away at the sight of her or manipulate her into doing stuff.

Plus, romance is so complicated.

Suzy nods in agreement. "I've been curious about that too. When she was at your locker the other day she was the nicest I've ever seen her. How did you manage to tame that hag?"

"Suzy," Kenai warns her disapprovingly.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious." 

"Whatever." Kenai laughs it off. "She's not a hag. And we're _just_ classmates."

" _We're_ just classmates," Suzy states, lips stretching.

"I don't like Quinn in that way. And I don't like Rachel in that way. Now here." Kenai hands them her laptop before righting herself into a standing position. "Just, _please_. Comment nice things. I'll be back."

Kenai walks away but not before hearing her English seatmate blurting out: "Is she leaving so she could play with herself?"

" _I am not horny!_ "

* * *

Later that night, Kenai sits in her bed, eyes alternating between her laptop and her Blackberry.

It dings a second later.

_[Camille Cammie Camel Fairgrove] 10:46 there i did it_

_10:46 Thank you very much! *thumbs up* I appreciate you!!!_

_10:49 sure sure. whats the deal wit u and this gurl. she one of the ladies that hit on u_

_10:50 I wanted to do something nice for her. Why do people keep saying I like her?_

_10:51 u nevah been the type to use social media_

_10:53 Just thought about trying it. Plus, that's not a reason to start thonking I like someone._

_*thinking_

_10:53 that IS a reason. weve been in diapers since knowing each other. i know u to much_

_10:53 I swear!_

Camille doesn't reply after a few moments which means she must have conked out by now. 

The spectacled girl drops her phone on the bed beside her before she plays one of Rachel's videos where she's singing Don't Rain On My Parade, a song that the girl has never heard until now. Kenai cannot help contain the grin that spills over the edges of her mouth as the song flows through her ears, eyes studying the expressions that burst across Rachel's face. _She's so happy._ So at home. So confident in her ability that it even has the Tally's heart thudding along with the music in the background. So magnificent that she can feel a shiver at the raw talent that shines back at her through the screen.

Even if she was a bit mean Kenai can't deny that the girl had a gift.

So she replays the video several times, picking up her stuffed bunny and pressing him to her chest.

When the video ends she scrolls down and adjusts the cursor until she's tapping on the comment section.

_[Dr. Oishi] Who's Barbra Streisand? Whoever she is I know that you sing much better than her._

_[Rachel Berry] Who is Barbra Streisand?! She is a phenomenal singer and actress who has starred in the American biographical musical comedy-drama: Funny Girl. Even so, thank you, Doctor Oishi! It's nice to know that you, a qualified practitioner in the medical field, had taken the time to leave a comment. Thank you very much, sir or ma'am!!!_

Kenai's eyes crinkle with mirth, laughing as Rachel mistakes Suzy for a doctor. She wasn't one _yet_ , but she knows that the girl had her interests honed in on medical practice from one of their chats during their shared English period. And she chose Oishi?! Damn. That girl was already smitten with those prawn crackers.

On a different video, she finds Echo's username instantly.

_[TheWallsKnowMyName] Your the best!_

_[Rachel Berry] It's "you're" the best, not "your" the best. In the sentence "you are" is the appropriate contraction while "your" is a second person possessive adjective. But thank you nonetheless!_

Kenai shakes her head, finding Rachel's replies and "teacher talk" to be entertaining as she roasts Echo's lack of proper grammar, a trait that she shares with Kenai's best friend, Camille the Camel. If there was another thing that was different between the sisters was that while Echo was better at communicating verbally in English, Kenai was way better at writing in it. But Echo was the queen in History. The spectacled girl finds it boring except for the parts that involve battles.

_[One Wheel Camel]_

Kenai squints, smirking. _That unicycling idiot._ She shakes her head before continuing to read Camille's comment.

_[One Wheel Camel] ur 1 of the best singers that ive evah heard in my life_

The bespectacled teen lets out a snort, finding Camille's comment painful. "Mannnn, Rachel's gonna blow her out of the water when she sees this." She says when she doesn't find a reply from the brunette.

Tally scrolls down the screen, grimacing when she passes a load of negative remarks that were from the Cheerios, a name that still makes her brows furrow because why would the school name the cheerleading team after cereal? Or maybe it was because of the word "cheer" in it. A cute little pun she supposes.

But what makes Kenai's eyes twitch is when she catches sight of a familiar face on a profile picture. In the image, a girl is captured performing an impressive split mid-air.

_[Sky Splits] If I were your parents, I would sell you back._

An abrupt sinking feeling bashes into the depths of her stomach, acting like a super cycle in a laundromat as she realizes that the comment was made during June, a shy two months from the current date.

"Quinn, what are you doing?" Kenai whispers to herself, doubt injecting itself into her system.

Was Quinn planning something?

Like Abigail Weld had done to her all their time together during their freshman year? 

No.

_Stop thinking about it._

_Thinking about it will make you remember._

That's the worst possible thing to do at the moment.

Kenai clenches her jaw before going back to the Don't Rain video, clicking on the comment section once more, fingers moving quickly, words already engraved into her mind. She triple checks her sentences, not wanting to make a fool out of herself as Rachel seems to value grammar a lot. She hits the enter key with a determined _click_.

_[Ocho Bear] I enjoyed that very much. You have a bright future ahead of you. Do not let others bring you down and don't let challenges bring you down. Take that challenge by the nape of its neck and make it yours. Prove yourself. But also remember that kindness will lend you a hand, it can go a long way._

She rereads it in case her eyes were playing her the entire time, especially the last part. That one is for Artie. 

Another comment distracts her (which is an even worse habit in comparison to her nagging doubt). The comment has her head tilting. It was submitted a day just before hers.

_[Magic Hands] You have a spectacular voice and I know that one day you will make it big in the world. Believe in yourself. Even if you don't know me, I believe in you too. xoxo_

The sophomore smiles. "Awww. That's cute, " she says softly, finding this Magic Hands character very kind despite the username that held many sexual innuendos. It's the last thing she says before a yawn escapes her so she cleans her room, putting her laptop back on her desk, making sure that it's plugged in before she leaps onto the bed, a grin spreading over her mouth, satisfied with her landing.

After turning off the lights she hugs August, shoving her chin against her bunny's soft hair before she shuts her eyes, falling fast asleep, not realizing that the day has made her completely exhausted.

* * *

Kenai appears to be in a classroom, seated at the desk that's right behind the "electrocution chairs" where the teacher would have a disturbing view of the unlucky students. Though she was behind the ghastly spot, it was second to the death sentence. Kenai learned this the hard way when one of her teachers noticed her hiding behind the boy in front of her and had asked her about the Founding Fathers with an evil glint in his eye, cognizant about her dislike for the subject or perhaps she hadn't been listening particularly well that day. She can't remember the question, all she remembered was her trepidation despite the emotion being a great part of her character.

At a realization such as this one, she would normally break out into a fit of panic since this would surely mean she's more susceptible to the glorious teacher calling on her for an answer. But there was no teacher. And her peripherals seemed to have ceased whatever function they held as the sides of the room were embraced by the linings of shadows. The only details that Kenai discerns that she _is_ in a classroom are A) the door that has a questionable spotlight over it with the typical square window that a school shooter can get a great scan through and B) the outlines of desks and chairs that are haphazardly scattered over the wooden floors. 

Wooden floors?

Kenai hasn't seen wooden floorboards in classrooms since freshman year.

At Millard Fillmore High School.

Oh no.

The hand that she had been resting under her chin falters in strength.

A warm touch presses into her. She jolts. But the pressure does not stray from her crotch. The warmth continues to cup at her womanhood, vaguely squeezing that it has her groaning shakily as sweat occupies her forehead.

" _I knew you wouldn't forget about me._ " 

Her eyes shut immediately. The familiarity of her silvery voice hitting the shell of her ear and Kenai hates herself. So. So. Much. Hates that her mentality is still blemished by Abigail's coercion. That even now she tingles all over just by an ordinary touch or by the flutter of her breath against her feverish skin when she teases blatantly. Pathetic really, that she was absolutely not over the fantasy that Abby had brushed over her eyes.

Stock-still and immobile, a lasso-like potency traps her, refusing to let her have freedom over her body. She can't turn around. To look. It was a bad idea. She knows that. She was human. A big chunk of her still yearned, an inescapable ache catching the ridges of her milky bones. 

When her eyes open once more, she's bound to a chair with her hands behind her back, tied by an endless rope where she remains sitting in the same classroom; however, the chairs and desks have vanished while the door remains, the square window still bothersome and transparent. Never in Kenai's life has she felt trapped. The door serving as a provocation. Escape was welcome, yet it wouldn't come easy. Those on the outside may look in to point and jeer. Others may look on with pity. To poke his or her nose where it does not belong.

Her jeans and shirt have evaporated into thin air. She sat in her mix-matched boxer shorts and sports bra of light blue and dark gray, lust discernible. 

The pressure continues to smooth over her length, groping at her tenderly, seeking and prodding at an agonizing pace, kneading what was reachable. _Everything_ was reachable. A pad of invisible warmth thumbs through the opening of her blue shorts, sliding across her skin, almost like a sedated tickle.

Kenai's eyes bug out behind her glasses.

A patch of skin materializes from the corner of her eye, manifesting and building the foundations of cells that begin to reach over her shoulder, a weight resting on her casually.

The partial limb continues its sci-fi-like formation over her chest.

” _What the fuck—_ “ Kenai squirms when the tickle turns into an outright embrace of her length, eyes tightening shut and hips twitching into the pressure, a foggy haze covering her sight. The clenching in her abdomen is uncomfortable and she can feel her precum leaking along her vulnerable tip.

In her dazed frustration, the ebony-haired teen stares down and her jaw falls because of two reasons.

  
The pressure that massages her is very attentive.

And the limb is _whole_.

The arm is painfully familiar.

Something places itself on the center of her skull and breasts pressed against the backs of her shoulders, nipples very tangible as a whole other hand fusses with the strap of her bra, tugging until letting go, snapping it viciously back onto her burning skin.

”There’s just something so sweet about this that it makes my head whirl and my thighs tremble.”   
  


“ _Abby_.” Kenai bucks into her soft hand, pumping in and out of (what she assumes is Abigail’s) the entity’s palm. The smell of honeysuckle clouds her judgment but it smells so rich, so unbelievably like _her._ Kenai's mind races yet she was very much in the moment.

With her arms tied behind her back, she can feel the drag of an equally naked body against her, wetness soon coating her fingers as Abby rolls her hips into her fingers as her long brown tresses slink beside Kenai's cheek. Unflinchingly curious, Kenai slides her digits across velvety lips, exploring and quickly discovering an engorged clit. From her memory, the girl dips her finger into the slickness of the entity’s arousal, spreading this liquidy warmth all over.

Abigail hums at this, pushing her chest into the seated girl's back. Her jaw clenches when the being behind her tightens its hand along her shaft, twisting at a godly angle that a strangled moan escapes her mouth.

” _Abby_.”

” _Oh, baby_.”   
  


Abigail sits in her lap now, clad in absolutely nothing but a silver necklace where a flower dangles between the valley of her beautiful breasts of which Kenai disregards even as they go within her eye line.

Kenai stares up at her, head leaned back as far as it could go, frozen in time as the brunette smiles down at her with flushed cheeks that were dotted with freckles and dimples on either side and those stupidly brown eyes that melt her fucking insides.

Deceitful, but inviting all the same.

Tears are quick to take action as the lenses of her glasses fog up. Her chest is unbearably constricted as though a snake had gotten a hold of her, but five times out of ten that would be a better deal than being there with her dick still hard as Abigail strokes over the cloth of her boxers with her lower lips, leaving a print of her excitement.

Like the day she had last seen her, she was a beauty. Lips so pink. Eyes so bewitching. Hair so soft. Smile so charming. All the memories they had with each other, gone in seconds.

”Don’t cry.” Abigail coos, her tenderness offends Kenai. The brunette plucks her glasses off her face before reaching sideways and using the end of the tan girl’s shorts to rid them of the moisture. Just like she remembers, the girl places them back on the bridge of Kenai’s nose after wiping her tears away, the action turning her on way more than she wants to admit. 

The spectacled teen turns her head to the side, denying her urge to look at this entity that wishes to torment her to the brink of madness.

”You’re going to be like that? Hm?” The brunette tries to make contact with the stubborn girl who only adjusts her eyes, her anger much prominent than her need for release. Abigail rolls her own before sneaking forward and nudging the tip of her nose against Kenai’s who remains rigid. She points the obvious out loud. "Stop being so stiff. It's bad enough that your dick is." Abigail smiles at her joke, resting her forearms on either side of the girl's shoulders.

She doesn't budge.

“You’ve gotten boring.”

Kenai grunts.

”And quiet.” Abigail thinks out loud. “I thought we fixed that ages ago.” Her hand comes up to caress the hair over Kenai's ears, her delicate touch so relaxing that her ear twitches like a traitor. 

”Yeah?” This is enough to break her vow of ignorance as she quickly turns to scowl at the thing straddling her. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you _broke_ me.” Her eyes flare while she stretches out her neck, veins protruding, to snarl like an animal only to get angrier by the minute when Abigail stares back blankly, unaffected.

Abigail tsks. With the patience of a torturer, the brunette smiles that bend-you-to-your-knees-smile and flicks up a wrist that causes the taller girl to flinch. This only seems to spur her on. Both her hands go down, the tips of each pointer finger tracing a line alongside Kenai’s bra, frolicking over the upper sides of her torso, dragging a nail down her sternum until she reaches the tiny gap the separates the tender substance of her flesh.

Kenai exhales a sharp breath, staring furiously at Abby’s throat.

”I’ve missed you.” The brunette interlaces her hands around the nape of the raven-haired girl, pinkies still striving to play with the small hairs on her neck, knowing that it soothes the angriest of people.

”I doubt it.”   
  


Abigail chuckles. “I suggest you don’t do that. You know how I get when people don’t believe me, _Kenai_.” She bites her lip, smoldering at her from under her thick lashes. Kenai's heart flutters at the sound of her name and the sight of teeth pulling at the lower margins of an incredibly pink mouth.

“ _I prove it_.”

Kenai realizes that her ass suddenly feels sticky against the chair and her hands are no longer tied down, but her wrists feel sore, her fingers still covered in Abby.

The brunette grabs her chin forcefully, getting the spectacled to look at her, intensity prickling the air between them. She sinks so that they’re face to face and Kenai gulps down a thick line of saliva. She’s bare. Bra and boxers no longer protecting her from this provocative impulse. Kenai twitches underneath Abigail, at the thought of being inside her and being connected, her burning member grazing the brunette’s inner thigh.

The brunette's eyelids quiver, mouth falling open as a puff of breath shudders out. Kenai remains watchful, heat extreme, feeling an itch and it gradually inching over her neck, her chest, her back, her legs. Only her feet feel cold as they curl over the chilly floor. Her thighs support the weight of the girl before her. She was everywhere all at once, engraving a memory into the tissues of her brain that would without question not be forgotten so simply. 

Abigail slowly opens her eyes and Kenai's breath catches, feeling like prey. She nears forward and they're nose to nose, dark eyes studying her as their collected exhales mix around the space between them. The details of the brunette's face are all but new. She knows this face. So up close. She could make out each freckle and the angles where light doesn't touch.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Kenai begs, desperate for an answer as she eyes Abigail's mouth.

The tilting of her head is an addition to her features, jaw appearing sharper. " _Baby_." She shakes her head, eyes shining as a sad smile appears. But Kenai knows it's just for show, she wasn't regretful of all that she has done. "We both know you don't want me to do that."

Kenai's throat fills with a constriction, but her lips part, tongue peeking out to moisten the edges of her mouth.

Abigail closes the short distance, firm and intense, her supple lips pressing against Kenai’s as the girl responds, eyes shutting, giving in to what the brunette has to offer. Heat radiates off their bodies, mingling like they had done all those times ago when Kenai wasn’t afraid to be in her presence and had not been intimidated with her affection.

She tastes of strawberry and it overwhelms her, nails raking and leaving red lines across her jaw as their lips linger. Their tongues gently meld along with each other as Kenai scratches at the thighs on either side of her, drawing out a pleased hitch of breath. Abigail takes the lead, tongue sliding out to trace her lip, teasing and teasing until she invades Kenai's mouth, the ebony-haired girl's mouth parting unthinkingly as their tongues meet again swapping saliva. The brunette bucks in her lap, seeking all the friction, momentarily skimming the underside of her member's head.

Losing herself, Kenai pulls away to kiss and lick a path down Abigail’s neck, savoring the way she digs her nails into her shoulders — positively leaving marks — and the way she gasps above her with delight, her other hand gripping the back of Kenai's head. She grips Abby’s hips, dipping her back a bit and keeping her still as she forges a path to a nipple, taking it into her mouth and suckling on her bosom, tongue swirling dangerously. Her thumbs continue to rub circles along the brunette’s hips as her unoccupied fingers bury at juicy flesh, very unwilling to relinquish her hold as the brunette moans with pain. She loves the way Abigail curls a hand into her hair after roughly pulling it out of its ponytail. She loves the way she yanks whenever she enjoys something that Kenai had done, gasping and gasping, chest heaving into her with the nubs of her mounds pinned above Kenai's.

She jumps when a hand closes around her. Letting go of Abby’s nipple with a wet pop, she watches with anticipation as Abby sinks forward, her drenched folds gliding across Kenai’s shaft that's smoothed back into her pelvis, covering it with arousal as they shiver in unison; she repeats the process, back and forth, back and forth, their lips fuse again, tongues slipping as Abby still grips at her, making sure that Kenai doesn’t enter her accidentally.

Abby leans back with one hand on Kenai’s knee as the other wraps around her flushed neck. The way she moves has Kenai's head spinning as Abigail slides across her length, pelvis rolling into her, grinding as she throbs at the feeling of sweltering warmth along her prick. Greedy, she enjoys the show as the brunette’s breasts bounce along with her calculated movements.

  
“I missed you so much.” Her forehead creases as she stares Kenai dead in the eye, hips sensually sweeping the expanse of the girl beneath her. “I miss being with you like this. Feeling you all over me. Your mouth. Your teeth. Your hands. Your fingers. _You_." She accentuates this with a deliberate rub, lips flush, and wrapped around the sides of her smooth pillar. "I miss having you in me. In my mouth. I want to feel you. I'm ready. To feel it. _Inside of me_.” Abigail strokes her again, lifting herself as she plays with Kenai, trawling her tip through her folds as she stares into the depths of Kenai's eyes who pants in and out at an irregular rhythm.

" _Abby."_

_"Abby."_

_"Abby_."

She chants her name and each time her pride is stripped away.

"I know," Abigail replies smoothly, sitting forward and giving all her attention to the hardness in her hands as Kenai presses her nose into Abby's bowed head. The brunette tugs, her arousal contributing to the ease of twisting around the seven and its healthy girth.

Kenai trembles in her hands, feeling sweat trickle down her spine.

A sound is heard in the distance behind her and it has Kenai looking around, nerves set off. 

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Abigail lifts her head, hand still attending to her as she moves forward, taking Kenai's lips. She forgets and bites Abby's bottom lip, digging her hands into her brown tresses, fingers massaging her scalp as the brunette moans appreciatively.

_Clink_.

"There it is again." She jerks, looking around and only seeing shadows.

Abigail rolls her eyes, taking her chin and pecking her on the corner of her mouth, lingering. "Just let me take care of you."

"I'm serious. I'm hearing things." Kenai blinks at her before gently grabbing the wrist between them.

"And _I'm_ trying to get you off."

_Clink_.

Something silver catches her eye behind Abigail's head.

"Abby!"

The girl pitches to the side as something hard hits her skull. 

Kenai tries to move as she screams, but it's useless, she's glued to the chair, frozen by some type of magic.

There's blood next to Abigail's head.

A flash of silver is what she sees again.

A bloody protruding knife is taped to the end of a metal bat and holding it is that same boy with a buzzcut and a disturbing gleam in his eyes. 

Samuel Miller.

"You—"

"I did." He nods, smiling and what peeks back at her makes her blood run cold. In his mouth are needle-shaped teeth. And he seems to notice where her attention has gone because his mouth widens, stretching out painfully as the corner of his lips lengthen up to his eyes, blackening. 

He begins convulsing where he stands, the grip on his bat slackening that it clatters to the ground at her feet.

She can't reach it.

She can't move.

She's still naked and afraid in the presence of her bully.

He screeches out, an abnormal sound piercing the room as Kenai winces. The boy clutches at his head, shaking furiously.

Her heartbeat is rapid against her ribcage, feeling like it's kicking and screaming like she should be right now. 

Her mouth is stuck. She attempts to open her mouth, but it's like they've been stitched together. 

Samuel Miller collapses to the ground on his knees.

Unmoving.

Until he's not on his knees anymore.

He stands when her vision flickers and he's leering at her naked body with eyes that have shifted into petrifying alabaster.

_Needle-teeth._

Her vision flickers again and he kneels between her open legs, scrutinizing her member as she shakes when he places his hands on her knees. His fingers held no nails, instead, you could see the bloodied tatters of skin that drip down his fingers, smearing the liquid over her thighs.

His mutilated hands work at her, his cold breath hitting her cock as she shivers. 

She shuts her eyes, refusing to see what she has seen. 

She's gasping for air as she feels something thin and eel-like encircle her penis at a clockwise interval. Its texture is cold and wet around her and she's disgusted when her hips kick into the coiled embrace, a sharp type of muscle breeches at her tip. Not being able to contain herself, Kenai pumps her hips at an organized speed, enjoying the immense hug that slides across her circumcised head, her balls tight with a need for release.

She whines and her eyes pop open.

It's dark and she can feel that her shorts are soaked beneath the confines of her blanket. 

Kenai groans, clutching the hair on her head with frustration, feeling the pain in her underwear.

With haste, the girl throws her covers before ripping her towel from its hook and striding to the bathroom with a cold shower in mind. 

* * *

No one knew about Abigail. Not even Echo. She had made Kenai promise not to tell anyone. So being the type of person who believed in trust, it has been a secret to this day. 

For so long, Kenai had been able to lie to herself. That she could just ignore everything else that came with her baggage that was labeled: Abigail "Abby" Weld (a girl who had joined a part of herself into Kenai's heart). How foolish was she to think that she could get rid of the break in the cage of her chest? That she would just sweep the pieces into a dustpan like it was a regular Sunday morning.

There were very vivid times where the ebony-haired girl would daydream about their adventures to Abigail's treehouse, eyes closing tightly to have herself stand in the events that had led to her downfall. She recalls their arms brushing against each other when they walked home. She recalls dancing to the music being played in a small convenience store and Abigail grinning at her slyly then later asking her to dance for her in the privacy of her room. It led to the beginning of their experimentations. It led to their pecks. To their feverish kisses which led to tongues twisting in a different kind of frisk. It led to a test of patience and Abigail not having enough of it so they would visit the bathroom in the middle of their classes where they'd bump into the panel of a stall that was directly next to the sink. The next week she would be hoisting the girl onto a sink and the spectacled teen would accidentally bump the hand dryer on. Or how there were soft moments where they would just sit next to each other and they'd playfully screw around under their shared table to draw in each other's hands without looking and then guessing what it was. Or that time when they had gotten an orange guppy together and named her Cheeseball. She didn't get custody of her.

"You never call me by my first name. Why is that?"

Kenai turns to the blonde, startled out of her thoughts.

Rachel hadn't shown up in over twenty minutes so the two of them had gone downstairs to get more comfortable in the seats. 

The tan girl studies Quinn for a hot second, a quick musing of whether or not the cheerleader was a homophobe.

"My grandfather is in the Navy. When I was younger he told me that I should call others by their surname to maintain professionalism — which was a word I did not understand at the time. Very big word, mind you, for a seven-year-old. So that's how it went for me. He was like God to me. He's _still_ like a God to me if I have to be honest." She shrugs as Quinn smiles at her briefly. "First names are only used if I have an intimate relationship with someone."

"We're not that close yet?" Quinn takes on a petulant lower lip, but her tone was coy.

Kenai smiles at this. "Don't take it personally, it's just the way I am. Believe me, I hope we can continue this. You've been good to me." She leans an elbow on the armrest that's furthest from Quinn, leaning her head on a palm as she looks at the blonde with what she hopes is utmost sincerity as she attempts to get an angle on her. She can't help it. With what she has experienced in the past along with the possibility of Quinn being a gay hater, she can't afford to take chances like that. Not anymore. "I've had a remarkable friendship. Well, two actually. There's Camille, my best friend — she's coming here in a few months. But. The other one ended badly, on a sour note." She pauses, biting her lip at her admittance.

"What happened?"

Kenai goes rigid. "I don't want to talk about that."

Hastily, the blonde apologizes.

"Nah. It's fine." The spectacled girl shrugs, shaking her head with a frown. "But, anyways. At the moment, it's a little too early to tell who I can get something like that with. But Pepper is really — she's proving herself to be a keeper. There's Hummel. Brittany." She lists off on her fingers.

"Wait." The hazel-eyed captain holds up a hand, mouth open with surprise. "Brittany's already on a first-name basis with you?"

The spectacled sophomore chuckles in response. "You're both on the Cheerios. I'm sure you know how easy it is to get along with her." She reasons before adding, "You just feel at home," which she now thinks may have been a bad choice on her part because it sounds a little gay, but then again everything sounds gay to her.

Though, instead of letting Quinn throw in her two cents to appease her uncertain mind, she rushes to start a hare, "Lots of things change. If we're still friends by the end of the year, I might . . . I might just tell you a story about why I moved away from Oregon just to change schools."

Quinn's stoic features scare the taller girl, but when she looks closer she notices that her eyes have dazed as if she was remembering something. As quick as it had come, the Head Cheerio is grinning at her widely, the largest smile she had ever seen skim over her face. "So, you consider us friends?" She said vaguely, raising that manicured brow of hers that Kenai has come to familiarize herself with.

"Yeah." Kenai clarifies with a nod and a shrug before shifting to pick at her jeans, avoiding the blonde's eyes. "You have to be honest with me though. That friendship of mine that ended sourly — I thought she was genuine." She frowns, back hunching unconsciously. "Then she turned around and betrayed me in the worst possible way after I trusted her and gave her what she wanted." The Oregonian's jaw tightens, a knot apparent in it as she levels a stare, directly into hazel. 

It seems like Quinn connected the dots because the next thing she's doing is fully turning in her seat and declaring, "I swear on Gertrude. I swear on the Boxcar Children. I will be upfront with you."

Eyes falter behind lenses before Kenai's lip quivers slightly, immediately forming a heartfelt smile at the promise, an inside joke she supposes from their time at the playground when Quinn had read to her. She had always wanted to be a part of an in-joke; the littlest things made her happy like that. 

The blonde's expression turns serious and the warning bells in Kenai's head go off.

"Why were you ignoring me?"

"Uh."

"And don't even think about lying." Quinn points a finger at her. "Friendship goes both ways. You have to be candid as well."

"I—"

"Swear on Gertrude and the Boxcar Children." Quinn crosses her arms and looks away from her with her chin jut out, trying to prove her point.

Kenai sighs, a cheesy smile breaking her. Fuck. How was she supposed to lie? "Your reputation."

Quinn slowly turns to her, inquiring silently, but Kenai could see a bit of concern in them.

"Back in the cafeteria. Everyone listened to you." The obsidian-haired girl recalls the rapt attention that everyone had given the cheerleader. "You're just a sophomore, but already you have command. You were so in control when you announced that my sister and I were under your protection. You're so great. On top of the world even. But me? What do I have to offer you?" She shrugs. "I can't help but think about why you would do that. We just met. Being the suspicious person that I am, I feel as though you want something else from me."

Kenai can feel the buzz in her head. A majority of what she had said might have been due to her lack of sleep and she regrets being too forward. She basically told Quinn that she thinks that she's manipulative. _Way to doubt her, dumbass._

The blonde nods steadily, but she doesn't convey a pissed off vibe. 

"All I want is to be your friend."

Quinn stares at her with this look that she can't decipher, but whatever it was, it was enough to reassure her qualms.

Warmth bursts through the apex of her chest and it rushes up over her skull, thrumming and pulsing along her head, subduing her into a relaxed state that she never knew she could accomplish. Her head was always milling about, filled with daydreams that she wishes would follow her beyond her shut eyes. Or just tainted with thoughts that made her days much worse. Always analyzing why people did the things they do around her. If there was something wrong with her. But now? Never _this_. Never being sure about anything in her life.

A ring breaks through the auditorium.

Quinn quickly pulls out her phone. "Hold on. My boyfriend's calling." 

Kenai presses her lips together before interlacing her fingers with her elbows across both armrests, singing a song in her head so that she doesn't eavesdrop on the cheerleader's conversation. 

* * *

From the tidbits that she's heard from Kurt and Mercedes, the incredibly tall brunet that had joined that day's glee rehearsals was Finn Hudson, the school's quarterback (of the crap team).

They were in the middle of "You're The One That I Want" when Rachel, the phenomenal singer that she had been on the fence about, had purposely grabbed her by the chin, shook her a bit, then shoved her away to the back after making her weird rounds with Kurt and Tina just to get to the new addition.

If there was something that she hated it was being touched without consent. Her bubble got popped. It doesn't matter if the girl is pretty. No. Her personal fucking space got popped. _POPPED_. To only make things worse, Rachel decided that it was a good idea to push Artie away towards the _edge_ of the stage where he could have fallen off and seriously injured himself if it were not for Mr. Schue catching him. 

The nerve of her.

As much as she admires the brunette she tipped her scale to the "dislikeable side."

Echo shoots her a concerned look from behind Brad.

Kenai responds with a shake of her head, shooing away her aggravation. 

* * *

The spectacled teen quickly sends a text to Quinn, saying that she's with Suzy before letting the brunette drag her to the lunchroom. Of course, this goes against all of her worries.

All those people.

All those eyes.

But she can't bring herself to say no to her.

Even under those nasty scowls, there was still a child in Suzy, daring and giving Kenai her own dose of puppy dog eyes. 

Just because she begrudgingly agreed to it doesn't mean she won't put up a fight.

Suzy huffs and grits her teeth at the other sophomore, tugging her, but only gaining a couple of feet into the cafeteria before she hears shoes squeaking behind her.

"You know more people are going to look at you if you keep doing that," Suzy tells her in a dour manner.

Kenai pouts before letting the Ohio native haul her to Echo's table where she sits with Tina and Artie.

"Hey." Suzy greets the trio quickly, not waiting for a response before practically forcing Kenai into a chair who huffs, crossing her arms and glaring at nothing in front of her.

Artie and Tina share a look, but they reply to the greeting politely.

" _Hiya, Suz_." Echo smirks at her as the older girl rolls her eyes.

Not even a minute in, the chairs next to the brunette squeak back. Kurt and Mercedes smile at all of them but their expressions falter when they notice Suzy.

Kenai watches the exchange carefully as the girl next to her freezes, looking away from the newcomers before turning to Kenai, smiling tightly.

_Weird_.

Whatever _that_ was seemed to be a minor setback because as it turns out Suzy was quite good at holding her own in a social setting — once she got over her glue-like animosity for strangers. The oddity of earlier was slightly apparent but like the unassertive teens that they were it was merely whipped back into the air over their heads, deliberately avoiding whatever it was that had juiced up the tension. Now, they were all smiling together as if they had been good buds the entire time, but she applauds the three of them. She appreciated their willingness to cooperate to avoid confrontation for the sake of those around them. Not like those people at her old school; they were ready to risk it all when it came to being dipshits.

So Kenai just listens in, not one for group interactivities where most of the members were still strangers to her. She's more like a one on one type of person, having this thing for secluded bonding just so she can truly get a good idea of what that person is like. But in a setting such as this, she didn't know where to start. She had a capacity of sorts, only being able to handle a few people at a time. Being in the presence of six others (which some may consider is only a few) with a specific grasp of three people, it was already too much for her. Perhaps it was lame that she was thinking this, but even if she had gotten there before Kurt and Mercedes she felt like the seventh wheel, one that didn't really contribute much. She was just there.

As it turns out, her thoughts have rambled on to their own accord. This is the part where everything becomes too much that you start getting tunnel vision. 

Maybe it was minutes, but it felt like hours with the way Kenai hunched in her seat, stupidly thinking that if she moved even a little bit it would garner attention and she didn't crave it at the moment. Nope! Not at all.

The sounds that bounce around the cafeteria are grating.

Boys were snorting Pixy Stix up their nostrils.

Girls were laughing obnoxiously and gossiping without a care for who heard them.

It was too much.

"I gotta go." She gets up, an annoying drone drilling a course through her skull. "To the bathroom."

But as if it was coordinated, Echo and Suzy push her back down with a gleam in their eyes. Then they're kissing her! All over her face! In public! _Jesus Christ_. Kenai makes a face and stumbles, tugging her arms out of the duo's clutches and darts off before they can do any more damage. It's so embarrassing! Everyone from the glee club was laughing at her!

The students that Kenai crosses paths with give her looks and don't bother hiding that they're whispering about her. It doesn't make her racing heart feel any better.

It only calms when she collapses into the seat beside Quinn who glances at her from the corner of her eye.

"Thought you were going to the lunchroom?"

Kenai shakes her head, knee bouncing like the speed of that of a woodpecker. "It started feeling uncomfortable."

Quinn smiles sadly before looking her in the eye. All this fades into shock as the blonde's eyes widen, taking in her companion.

Kenai's brows furrow with worry, anxiety filling her system once again. "What?"

The cheerleader opens and closes her mouth, words stuck in her throat like a frog. She shakes her head vigorously until she's sniggering, mouth tight, refusing to let her amusement be audible.

"Stop it! You're scaring me."

This just makes the Cheerio's shoulders shake. "Look at you, Romeo."

"HUH?"

Finally, the hazel-eyed girl gives her a break after taking in the spectacled teen's growing horror, reaching into the vacant seat beside her and pulling out something square.

With reasonable hesitation, the Oregon native opens it, revealing a mirror.

"OH MY GOD!!!"

Quinn's teeth show as she grimaces.

Clearly distressed, Kenai stares at the lipstick prints on her face, mouth hung open hopelessly. "That's why people were staring at me." She said to herself, angling the pocket mirror to find all the marks on her face. She eyed them with distaste before glaring at her reflection. "I'm gonna kill them," Kenai promises with a growl, aggressively bringing her collar to wipe the mess.

_Smack!_

"Ow." The spectacled girl glares at the blonde who smirks at her, pleased with herself. Quinn points at her forehead before touching Kenai's, but not.

Confused, the multiracial teen feels the tell tales of adhesive on a post-it just below her hairline; Kenai moves the mirror to see what's written and she pauses before giving the Cheerio a haughty glance.

"I don't know if I should be impressed that you wrote it perfectly backwards or if I should count to three."

Quinn chuckles out a breath. "Count to three?"

Kenai hums, peeling the pink square off her forehead. "One."

Quinn narrows her eyes, but she doesn't budge.

"Two." 

The blonde stiffens visibly before the cushion that she had been sitting on folds up, hitting the backrest, swishing back and forth at the sudden movement.

"Three." The spectacled girl calmly smooths her glasses up her nose before her seat is empty seconds later.

Kenai takes off after her in a wild chase as the pink post-it flys from her fingertips, gravity assisting in its descent to the ground. To the left. To the right. It sways. In the background, rushed footfalls can be heard as a blonde in a crimson uniform speeds across the aisles trying to get away from a black-haired girl who continues her pursuit. The tiny square of pink falls flat, facing up with one word mirrored in all caps.

AVOИAƧAƆ

"This is fun," Suzy admits to her during English class.

"I'm just glad I'm free," Kenai replies, watching the older girl unwrap her hands from its two-week confinements. Once the gauze is gone, Kenai searches her pocket, pulling out her silver ring and sliding down her right pointer finger. "I feel whole again." She sighs, giving the accessory a faux dreamy look. 

Suzy rolls her eyes. "Weirdo."

"Would you girls pass this out for me please?" Their teacher comes up to them with a smile and Kenai nods politely, taking the stack from her. 

She splits it and hands Suzy the other half. The brunette groans, "You do it. I didn't agree to any of this."

Kenai scoffs. "She was referring to both of us, sweetie." She grins before slapping the stack into Suzy's chest who groans once it connects.

After throwing away her wraps, she begins her duty, smirking at the brunette who scowls at her before speeding up her pace, commencing a competition on who can pass out the sheets the fastest. Kenai narrows her eyes and follows suit. They pass each other at the front of the class and Suzy has the audacity to throw in her workload in her stack (she may be exaggerating a bit because the "workload" was actually just one sheet of paper).

"Ugh. Pepper."

The girl flicks her hair over her shoulder in response.

Kenai shakes her head, flipping the paper over and reading the name. Her eyes narrow into happy crescents as she crosses the room, standing directly in front of the blonde. 

Quinn looks up at her curiously, tilting her head as she reaches out a hand, taking her graded work from the other teen. She smiles when her eyes catch Kenai's exposed hands. "Thank you." She says quietly and Kenai moves, but the blonde stops her with her fingers to her arm, "Make sure the gauze stays off." 

Brown stares into hazel; Kenai nods. "Will do." She tells her assuringly before disposing of the other papers.

Suzy is already at their table. "Ha. I win." She celebrates by shimmying her shoulders giddily, puffing her cheeks with air.

"You cheated," Kenai calls her out on her bullshit.

Pepper gasps, "As if you didn't like where it got you." She smirks knowingly, but Kenai shakes her head already feeling the taunts.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She feigns ignorance, jotting down her heading. But she was wholly aware of what she was talking about, it was painfully obvious.

Suzy harumphs, slouching back as her arms crossed over her chest with disbelief. "Don't play stupid with me."

The oldest Tally hums, distracted as she writes down the notes, not bothering to tell the girl that she's wasting her time. That'll be her payback. She smirks to herself as their teacher gets to the third paragraph of notes and Suzy hasn't even bothered to take out a loose-leaf from her binder.

On a Thursday, Brittany is suddenly touching her, inspecting her hands carefully. Kenai watches with fascination as the blue-eyed girl rubs circles into the backs of her hands.

"There are better ways to take out your frustrations."

"Like what?" Kenai asks dumbly, mind taking what the blonde said in a dirty direction and it has her staring at the science table, shamefully.

Brittany squints at her as if trying to zone in on what she's thinking right now and it doesn't help the already present blush that's building fire in her ears. 

"Like meeting my friend. Lord Tubbington." The cheerleader places her chin in her palm as she continues tracing the subtle veins on tan hands.

Unlike the first time they had met, Kenai was no longer suspicious of the tall blonde. Yet, as she stares into blue eyes all she feels is guilt that she had misjudged the sweet girl in the first place.

With her other hand, Kenai scratches at the nape of her neck sheepishly. "I maybe kinda forgot to ask my grandmother . . . "

Brittany shakes her head disapprovingly and it makes the spectacled girl want to hang her head low. "You're not even an adult yet and you're already forgetting stuff." She lets go of Kenai's head in favor of knocking on the left side of her skull. Kenai's eye twitches. Brittany seems to realize this and stops, watching Kenai closely who fiddles with the ring on her finger.

Instead of addressing the flutter, the blonde rests her forearm on a firm shoulder and brushes a pinky into obsidian hair which garners a positive response from what she could tell from eyelids falling shut and an ear twitching in a cute way. It reminded the blonde of a puppy she had seen in a YouTube video; it was getting scratched behind the ear and its tail wagged on merrily with its tongue lolled out with appreciation.

In another head, Kenai feels a shiver crawl up her spine, enjoying another one of Brittany's treatments. As much as she hated others for violating her private space, Kenai selfishly enjoyed her head pats and head scratches. There had always been that gentle thing about Brittany that she had refused to believe was genuine, but now she regrets not letting her in sooner; she could have been getting this type of quality care since day one. Her heart clenches though, reminding her of Abigail's similar actions. "Sorry," she mumbles out in a way that it'd make you think she was falling asleep, but she's suddenly sober after that particular train of thought. She's not sure if she apologized for forgetting to tell her grandmother or if she had thought about her ex-friend while she was with another girl.

"What if I come over instead?"

Kenai's brow stutters as Brittany's nails tickle her neck. "I still have to ask either way." She opens an eye to peek at the Cheerio.

"Hold on." Brittany pulls out a sharpie. "May I?" She asks, directing a finger at Kenai's arm.

"Knock yourself out," Kenai mutters, leaning her head on her hand, eyes feeling heavy and already missing Brittany's fingers on her skin. _That's weird. Don't think about it like that._ With her eyes shut, Kenai focuses on the soft hands that roll the sleeve of her shirt before the tip of the marker presses into her forearm lightly, stroking out words or numbers, she's not entirely sure.

"Call me or text me and I'll come right over."

Kenai forces herself to open her eyes and flinches when her vision opens to a hand close to her face.

Brittany boops her on the nose.

"Okay." She agrees, doing her best to nod.

"And I'm sorry about Santana." This wakes her up and she gazes at the blonde who, for the first time she has ever seen her that way, has a frown that mars her jovial character. "She does crazy things sometimes."

Kenai sighs, wanting to comfort the girl, but what she said irked her. _Sometimes? I think you mean all the time._ "I'm not saying this to shit on your friend, but that doesn't change the fact that she slushied me and my sister on purpose." She presses her lips into a thin line, shrugging. "We haven't even done anything to her. We were just new and she decided to take it upon herself to do those nasty things."

Brittany falters, about to say something but Ms. Berkley interrupts, "Brittany, you can go to the bathroom now."

The blonde student nods, glancing at Kenai before heading off and out the room, passing a teenage boy who walks up to their science table for the third time that period and places Brittany's graded paper above the ones he had passed out earlier. 

As a "what the hell," Kenai takes Brittany's work, shuffling them into a neat pile, the back facing her so that she doesn't see the grade. The last two questions are blank. At the same time she notices, the boy returns with two other sheets, also putting them face down. Kenai takes them and her brows furrow, both quizzes had one question blank. Realizing what she's doing, Kenai quickly puts the sheets on Brittany's side of the table before resting her head in her arms until she feels those familiar hands brushing across her scalp once again. 

During her gym period, Kenai paces herself, jogging around the track all by her lonesome until she hears a shout and a football comes sailing through the grass at an irregular pattern. She leans back to catch it when it decides to go in a different direction as opposed to how a soccer ball would remain in a single path.

Her brows draw inward as she searches the field, finding an Asian boy waving his arms while a light-skinned African American boy cups his hands over his eyes to shield from the sun as he looks in her direction.

Positioning her body sideways, her right foot steps behind her left, hitting a specific momentum as her left foot draws forward, shoes digging into the green as her right arm hiked over, driving the leather ball through the air and into awaiting hands. She turns to continue her jog but the Asian boy motions her over; despite being shy, she had no choice but to go over, not wanting to be rude.

"Wanna play catch with us? You have a pretty good arm on ya." The Asian boy tells her, sharing a look with the other boy who nods.

Kenai blinks, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. But she smiles, feeling comfort blossom into her chest at being invited to play. "Sure."

"I'm Mike. That's Matt."

"Kenai."

For the rest of the period, that's how the trio went about their day, tossing the football or goofing around playing hot potato. Kenai enjoyed her time with them. As much as she loved her sister and Camille they didn't really offer a challenge when it came to the simple game of catch; too often, she'd feel unchallenged because her throws were far-reaching whereas theirs fell short so she'd have to run back and forth to be able to get the ball or they'd get bored too quickly because they don't like sweating so much. Ugh. She didn't understand girls sometimes. The irony of that.

She rushes to the very back of the locker room, thankful that the other girls chose lockers that were closer to the door. As much as Kenai wants to shower she can't. There weren't any curtains and she was afraid of what would happen if she went in there barefoot. Well, besides the fact that everyone could possibly see the thing between her legs, that too! And it's not like Coach Tanaka gave them enough time to shower. They only had ten minutes before the period ended! So she does her best to wipe the sweat off her body; spray on deodorant; put on her clean clothes; then apply perfume onto her neck, spreading the rest of her rosewater and ivy fragrance to her wrists.

The spectacled girl steels herself for the last period, but it proves to be congenial when the level of animosity that Santana Lopez directs at her is merely dialed to glaring and paper ball chucking. Yet, things eventually had a time limit where it would be considered entertaining to downright annoying. 

The bell rings, indicating that hell was over, but Kenai waits until most of the assholes were gone before she picks up Santana's garbage, knowing she has a lot of time before she has to attend glee club which wasn't for another ten minutes. She walks over to the recycling bin and drops in all the projectiles.

Kenai brushes all her hair back into her white baseball cap, making sure that there weren't any loose strands as she controls her breathing. Rachel was at it again with her "my way or the highway" attitude. It was getting fucking annoying.

Echo had stopped Brad the piano player after the song ended, asking for tips on how to improve her pace without cramping.

And Rachel . . . she was being Rachel. 

"Study on your own time. It's crucial to get as much time as we can to practice and we can't do that if you keep taking up Mr. Piano Man's time."

Brad's expression sours.

Kenai clenches her jaw.

"Jesus, I'm just asking. There's no need to breathe down my neck." Echo frowns at the girl, disliking the tone that was shot at her. 

"I agree with Echo, Rachel." Mr. Schue cuts in. "Besides, if Brad is ill then we'll have her as a backup."

"I require perfection and I cannot obtain that if we keep pausing to cater to the needs of a person that's not even a member of this club," Rachel replies sharply, leveling a look at the younger Tally.

"Don't talk to my sister that way," Kenai tells her firmly as the other members turn to look at her warily with the exception of Echo, probably thinking that the girl who is usually quiet and polite is now gonna go Hulk crazy.

"But it's true. She's not even part of the New Directions." Rachel insists with a snotty tone, hands resting on her hips defensively.

The spectacled girl tightens her fist. "Just because she can't dance or sing it does not mean that she's not part of this; she has a right to be here too. She's an honorary member in case you weren't listening during the auditions."

The petite brunette blushes, proving her statement correct.

"And FYI, I know you have a phenomenal voice and everything, but you need to fix your attitude," Kenai says through her teeth. "Storming out every chance you get is unprofessional. And frankly, your dramatics aren't well appreciated." She can feel her blood curdling and steam straining through her body as she stares at the brunette who she had admired from afar. The awful things you find out about people when they open their mouths, jeez.   
  


"Mr. Schuester, I don't appreciate this antagonism to my character." Rachel swivels on the curly-haired man who looks between the two girls.

"Um."

Kenai scoffs. "I am not antagonizing you." She rubs her temples, inhaling tightly, trying to calm herself. "I'm trying to tell you that all I've been hearing from you is me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. If you haven't noticed we are a team." Kenai gestures to all of them. "My grandfather taught me this once: There is no 'I' in team. So don't go thinking that all of us are expendable while you sit high and mighty at the top. We need each other whether you like it or not." She sees Echo come up next to her from the corner of her eye. "And for the love of God, if you don't want to be treated horribly then treat others with the same respect that you want to be treated with."

They stare at one another and everyone watches them waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Rachel glowers at her heatedly.

The Oregonian blinks back and she almost wants to punch herself. There was another thing that Tatay had taught her. Praise in public and reprimand in private. No one liked the attention when it came to getting knocked down a peg. Now, she sees her mistake when there's a shine that layers over the brown eyes that stare back into her, the same eyes that had looked at her with a softness when they had initially met in McKinley's washroom. 

Just like that, Rachel turns on her heel and the slam of the door leaves Kenai feeling like absolute shit.

She made someone cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face Claim: Abigail Weld is played by Leighton Meester
> 
> Sorry about Rachel. People have different perspectives of each other and unfortunately, Kenai saw her in a negative light. She went to sister mode there! No one fucks with Echo. 
> 
> Rachel needs character development. That's all I'm gonna say. I was disappointed when she quit NYADA in season 5 because she didn't get her way and that's the path that I will be delving into. 
> 
> Please leave a comment below. Questions? Concerns?
> 
> Any form of comment will be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Just a heads up, I may be thinking about writing a story in the Highschool of the Dead fandom because I absolutely love Saeko Busujima and I've always wanted to write with “zombie apocalypse” as a theme. So...
> 
> Also, my graduation is tomorrow y'all!!!


	8. Berry Queries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts from Season 1 x Episode 1 (aka Pilot) will show up. (Damn, still on the first episode smh. I swear, I feel like for each episode there is I'm gonna be writing like five chapters for each)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot has happened. 
> 
> We miss you, Naya.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything except for my original characters and the storyline; most of the scenes covered in detail are from the show, including deleted scenes
> 
> Songs Used:
> 
> 100 Years by Five for Fighting
> 
> Word Count: 9,401
> 
> Posted On: 9/23/2020

_"You must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul."_

_\- Gusteau (Ratatouille)_

* * *

She feels like shit.

That's it.

It's the only thing that was on her mind. 

_You're such an asshole._

Kenai stares glumly at the stage that was usually occupied by Rachel Berry, but at the moment it was vacant.

She was a person that she had admired from afar (a person that she had put on a pedestal), but the minute she stood next to her in all her penny-loafer-glory her patience pruned until there was none left. 

The spectacled teen shakes her head to herself, very much bothered by her actions even if they were for the right reasons. The execution was just terrible. _The one time I talk and everything goes to hell._ She sighs, body sagging into the cushioned seat and wishing that it would come alive to swallow her. That would be the easy way out. Who was she kidding? As much as she hates to admit it, there _wasn't_ an easy way out of it. Unless drinking is involved and she wasn't about to go down that direction.

Her frown deepens.

"You look like someone stole your sandwich."

Kenai lets a puff of air out her nose, but her amusement is short-lived before the corners of her lips dip once more. 

Quinn scoffs with mild displeasure when she notices this, insisting that, "That was a good joke!"

From her low position on the seat, Kenai's head turns with a snap, looking at the blonde as if she had been insulted. " _That_ was a joke?" The ebony-haired girl pokes fun. "If you're thinking about doing stand-up then you're gonna be a broke ass comedian."

The Cheerio's mouth falls open, disbelieving what she just heard. "You're getting way too comfortable if you're making jabs at _my_ jokes."

"Your jokes don't even classify as jokes. Besides, if someone did steal my sandwich then you'd be to blame."

"Me?!"

”Yeah, you! Don’t act like I didn’t see you drooling over that piece of bacon that I gave you.”

Quinn rolls her eyes, yet her displeasure is obscured by the shade of red on her cheeks. "You were hallucinating," she says this indignantly, looking away to avoid the smirk thrown her way.

"Sure I was." Kenai nudges the blonde with an elbow, tone teasing; though, she was thankful for the change in her mood. In all truth, it was difficult for her to get out of her head. She spent too much time up there thinking about all the negative possibilities that could happen in a day. Or in this case, with Rachel.

Her mouth lowers again, accompanied by dreary eyes.

From beside her, Quinn bites her lower lip, contemplating on what to do to get her companion out of her obstructing tick. 

"Seriously, what's the matter?"

"Nothing." Out comes the default answer.

"We both know that nothing is something."

"And sometimes nothing should be left alone." That is said colder than necessary that it has Kenai pressing her eyes tight together, mind already reeling with apologies and wishing she could slap herself for her curt idiocy.

Quinn, unbothered and very much used to this response due to a certain third of the Unholy Trinity, answers back smoothly, "If nothing was left alone then nothing would become chaotic in silence."

The trilingual girl stops short, genuinely speechless rather than too anxious to respond even though she can make a selection from three languages. That's what was ironic about her; she could communicate more than one way, yet she was very troubled in that department. She had a lot to say, but not enough courage to do so. 

"I'm so lost. What are we talking about again?"

Narrowing her eyes, not believing her cluelessness, the blonde reiterates. "You look sad. Why?" Quinn pauses, sifting through her thoughts. "The better question is: Who?"

It was weird, to say the least. Being vulnerable wasn't something that Kenai could get behind . . . even if she has cried frequently since her admission to WMHS. She still questions if Quinn was just using her for a good laugh or if her comments on Rachel's video were proof of that hidden animosity. She wonders if their promises were real or if the magic words that rest amongst Gertrude and the Boxcar Children would just end up being bitter memories — of empty promises.

But when she gives Quinn her attention (something that isn't given half-assedly), the reminder of that promise between them would burst in the cavity of her chest because Quinn's eyes would bore into her in that provocatively disarming way that should make her uncomfortable. She wasn't. 

They were nothing short of extraordinary.

Who knew that eyes could make her so weak?

The spectacled girl had already decided she wouldn't be responding, but what would have been her answer coincidentally appears on the stage. Her reaction to the new arrival must've been obvious because Quinn hits the nail on the head just right.

The head cheerleader lets out a sound of clarity before she asks, "What did Berry do?"

Kenai finds her heart clenching quite literally, a big chunk of her wanting to sob for what she did. For others, they would think that she's making out what she did to be a big deal. It was a big deal! She made Rachel cry. That's the worst thing she could do in her opinion. First, she leaves her alone in the bathroom on the first day with Quinn and Santana ready to unleash their wrath (hopefully Quinn held it in). Now? This! She could feel her head coming undone, but instead of calmness pouring out, she was on the brink of a swelling headache — all her emotions flooding mercilessly. And it was close to imploding. Was she becoming one of the people that had tormented her for so long?

So with stiff shoulders and a resolve that was damn near crumbling, Kenai fixed her stare on the lone figure with an argyle vest.

"Ignoring me isn't going to make the question go away."

She's right.

It doesn't hurt to hope.

That's exactly what Kenai tells her.

Quinn smiles softly, but her face takes on the picture of seriousness, a look that Kenai has come to familiarize herself with and associate with the beginning of a promise. 

"I swear on Gertrude. I swear on the Boxcar Children."

_I will be upfront with you._

_Friendship goes both ways. You have to be candid as well._

The saliva that the dark-haired girl gulps down is a small distraction. Temporary. "It's more about what I did," Kenai mutters, wishing that Quinn hadn't heard her, but at the same time hoping she does. She can sense the captain's eyes on her; it doesn't erase that comfortable-uncomfortable feeling that she's been having at intervals. Somehow multitasking, the Oregonian watches as Rachel perches herself at the piano's bench, fingers fiddling with the ever-present sheet music. 

She hears the blonde inhale a big breath, probably thinking about what's next. "I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about."

Thank God for intuition. 

Rachel continues to shuffle paper; her movements didn't give away any sign that she was distressed. 

"She said something insulting to my sister. It just pissed me off. How could it not? My sister. _My_ sister." Kenai jabs a finger into her chest with every mention of the younger Tally as if Quinn wasn't already informed about the family tree.

"What did she say?"

Kenai thought about it. Then, she thought about it some more. "I can't remember." Curse her horrible memory. "Something about perfection and arguing about what she does or doesn't deserve. Honestly, everything is a mess in my head. I just — I remember what it felt like. Before and after I made her cry." She doesn't dare look at Quinn, fearing the worst outcome already. What if Quinn does judge her? "I remember the frustration I had because of her. It was building up. And then, like a balloon . . . I just popped with no warning. Anger."

The lump in Kenai's throat grows when she notices that Rachel had stopped shuffling and had resorted to staring at the space above the sleek instrument. It was because of what she did, wasn't it?

"After?" Her teeth clench. "After I said the things that I said?" A cold trail streams through her spine. "Absolute remorse."

Quinn doesn't reply at first and the lack of reaction has Kenai's shoulders straining even more. She doesn't chance a look.

"I'm not sure how this will help, but I had a somewhat similar experience a few days ago."

At that, Kenai turns to her inquisitively. 

"One of my closest friends and I had gotten into talking about a subject that I'm not fond of getting emotional about. I'd rather sweep it under the rug if possible, but I can't, unfortunately. She said some things that I didn't agree with. But I know deep down that I do." The last part sounded like it was more for her than for Kenai, but the taller girl doesn't comment, knowing without being told that she also needed to talk things out even if she wasn't aware of what it was. "She made me think about it more profoundly. I left because she said something that struck a chord in me. I was immature."

Suddenly, she blinks, catching herself. "Anyways, I'm losing track of myself. What I'm getting at is people make mistakes. People act differently when they feel cornered. You stood up for your sister is what I'm getting. Is that right?" A nod. "Berry," Quinn pauses, glancing at the said girl. "Berry says things. She can't help who she is. You might have been doing her a favor by saying what you said because she . . . she's a mouthful. Rambles too much. Arrogant midget. People like that need a wake-up call."

As much as Kenai wanted to tell the blonde thank you, it didn't help her at all. She still felt guilty. What should she do? Well . . . she knew what she needed to do; it was more about her wanting a particularly hard push to get her to woman up.

When Kenai finally looks at Quinn with those sad brown eyes the blonde feels the creeping of discontent at the back of her skull.

"Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that."

A croaky sound leaves a tan throat, admitting the owner's dismay.

"Apologize if you want. That's the easiest solution to your problems." The cheerleader shrugs, crossing her legs.

"Easy for you to say. You don't have trouble talking to people."

Quinn smiles softly, sadly. "I used to. But that's another story for another time."

The promise is there, but some questions itch the outskirts of Kenai's brain that the promise doesn't fully register in her head. 

"Has she always been like that?" The spectacled teen nods towards the stage.

"Not at first."

Kenai rights herself in her seat, fingers interlacing in her lap. "I don't know. I feel like I'm one of those people that judge others too quickly for a few mistakes. Who knows? Maybe she was having a bad day when she said those things to my sister."

Quinn stares at her in shock. "You are an odd girl."

The native shrugs as if saying _I know_. "How so?"

"You're defending the person that insulted your sister. And you're making yourself come out as the person that's solely to blame. Other people I know would start pointing fingers and play hot potato on who's responsible."

Kenai shrugs again. "Good thing I'm weird."

After a few moments, Kenai finds it within herself to ask another question that makes her itch. "Are you one of those people that hate her?"

Quinn completely freezes next to her, mouth closing and opening undecidedly; Kenai doesn't know what to make of that.

"Hate," she starts before hesitating. "It's a strong word. What makes you think I hate her?"

A jean-clad leg bounces, exposing Kenai's current emotions as she settles over her words carefully. Maybe she shouldn't have asked. If only she could time travel and _not_ ask that question. "I was on MySpace." Kenai ends her response vaguely, but by the way Quinn lets out a strangled breath she knows that the blonde already pinpointed what she was referring to.

"You saw it."

"I saw your comment, yes."

"As I said, people like her need a wake-up call," she defended, giving Kenai a meaningful look. It didn't take a genius to know that Kenai was still having doubts about her and if she was correct in her assumption then: "Did you see that comment before or after you asked me to promise to be honest with you?

"Before."

Quinn gazes at her with intent, "I'm trying to change."

At that, Kenai smiles, but her brain still nags at her, telling her that Quinn was lying, "Do you think that being my friend will help you?" 

Hazel eyes make a complete stop on brown behind lenses. "For some reason, I know it will."

"Flatterer." The smile on Kenai's face spreads over her cheeks as she shifts her eyes back to the girl on stage. "You should delete your comment. That's the first step to change — for your change at least."

The blonde opens her mouth, about to protest. 

"No, no, no. It's easy. With one click it'll disappear."

"More like turning on my laptop. Then I have to wait for it to load. Then I have to open a new tab. I have to type. Then log in—"

"Okay. I get it. You don't have to be a smart aleck." 

Quinn breathes out a laugh, "I'm just messing with you. I'll do it, but I'll do something else. Just not something that has to do with _her_."

Shocked by this outward display of detestation, Kenai gives her seatmate a look that communicates as such. "What's wrong with making amends with her?" She was terribly confused. Was there something she wasn't aware of?

"I'm not answering that." The blonde dismisses with the cross of her arms. "I know you're helping me, but I'm not going in that direction. No way, no how."

"But—"

"Nope."

Kenai smacks her teeth, externalizing her disapproval.

"You, on the other hand, you need to fix what you did."

"Why do I have to apologize and you don't for whatever reason?"

"Because you—" Quinn falters, her reasoning delayed. "You're um . . ."

She continues to stumble over her words as Kenai looks on and genuinely feeling like she was being exploited. 

"Ahhh, yes. Because you feel bad about what you did to her. I'm a different story. There's a whole can of worms that I frankly do not have the energy to open up this year."

Kenai remains pouting.

Quinn takes one look at it and pauses. That is until she realizes what she's doing and she shakes her head, wagging a finger at the taller girl. "No. That won't work on me. Uh-uh. You may have bested me at the staring contest but your moping will not be tolerated."

Kenai takes off her glasses, showing off her brown eyes. 

A part of Quinn's face jerks, a minor crack in her tenacity. "Oh, come on." She practically begs. "Isn't that what you're looking for? You're nervous so you need someone to guide you in the right direction. You need someone to force you to apologize to that dwarf? Am I getting warmer?"

"More like you're burning." The spectacled girl sulks, shoving her glasses back onto her face.

Quinn beams quickly, knowing that the other sophomore knew she was right. "This is what friends do. They encourage each other. I'll help you feel more comfortable in your skin, ease you out of your worries."

Kenai fiddles with the ring on her pointer finger, weighing her thoughts carefully. Quinn's avoidance of ridding her negative standing with Rachel was very complex. She had no clue what to do about that or if she should even be butting her head somewhere it doesn't belong. Gotta focus at one thing at a time, she guesses.

For now, she has to work on herself.

Character development, some might say. 

_Oh hell._

She bites her lip, staring at the back of Rachel's head.

_Why not?_

* * *

"You guys look awesome." 

Kenai would believe Mr. Schue if she didn't feel so uneasy wearing clothes that made her back itch like a bitch. But she was thankful that he gave her the orange shirt and the white pants that were originally for the male members instead of that horrid looking costume that the other girls had to wear with their shoulders showing. She was very conscious about exposing her body like that. Plus, the yellow flared disco pants were just disgusting to look at, let alone _wear_. 

Keeping her mouth shut, Kenai adjusts the white ball cap on her head to shield her distaste for the garments, as well as shielding herself from the vexing grin that Echo shoots her in her normal attire.

That wasn't the only thing she was hiding from.

She was hiding from someone.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Rachel standing beside Tina. She was supposed to be apologizing or she should have already apologized. She wasn't stalling or anything. She just . . . hasn't had the right opportunity to do so. 

"I am not wearing this," Mercedes tells the Spanish teacher, hands on her hips.

"The '93 team took nationals wearing those."

"I know. I can still smell them."

Kenai smiles a little bit at that from her spot beside Kurt, who is also displeased by the turn of events. The girl pats his arm and once he gives her his undivided attention she points at the costumes before discreetly pointing a finger into her open mouth, expressing her lack of satisfaction and pretending to throw up.

He chortles quietly before raising a thumb to his throat and making a motion of slitting it. 

Kenai covers her laugh with her hand when she notices that Mr. Schue is now looking at the blue-eyed boy like someone ruffled his feathers. Her amusement falters when an elbow digs into her ribcage. She rubs the sore skin and glares at the boy, who checks his nails indifferently.

"I want a new costume."

"I'll take it to the dry cleaners for you," Schue tells Mercedes after giving Kurt a pointed glare, but she won't have it. 

"You can take it to the moon baby. Everyone knows you can't get stinkass out of polyester."

Someone scoffs to the side and Kenai already knows it's Rachel.

Next to where Brad sits at the piano, Echo sends her older sister an annoyed look after gesturing to the petite singer. Kenai shrugs. So far Rachel hasn't said anything awful. She's been quiet, too quiet, that it has the multiracial girl worrying.

"You wanna be starting something, Britney." Mercedes quips, not hiding her irritation for the sudden sound.

Rachel responds by doing what she does second best (the first one being her singing).

She storms out, heels clicking.

Kenai sighs, playing with the drawstrings on her chest. She was making it hard not to agree with Quinn that what she did was the right thing. It doesn't take away the fact that she still feels bad about what she did.

"Rach." Mr. Schue tries to stop her.

"Is she gonna diva out after every rehearsal?" Kurt points at the direction that Rachel had exited.

"Probably." 

* * *

On Saturday, Kenai patiently waits for the minibus to arrive, pulling on the sleeves of her hoodie when a chilly breeze brushes by, effectively causing the little hairs on her arms to spring upward. Mr. Schue planned a field trip to Carmel High School so that they could check out the competition. Usually, she'd skip out on these types of activities, especially if it interfered with her weekend, which consisted of laundry day. Laundry day was important. But something about that day just told her that she needed to be there. Maybe it was just the fear of missing out that had gotten her out of bed?

When the bus does arrive, everyone piles in with her being last in line. 

Once she does get on the bus, she knows that fate may have tricked her into coming clean because a) Echo has left her alone to sit with Tina (the bitch is sticking her tongue out too) and b) the only seats left were next to Rachel and Mr. Schue.

She's gonna kill Echo later.

The only seat left that made sense was . . .

She must have been taking so long because Mr. Schue is looking up at her questioningly from his seat behind the driver.

So she sits, grateful that the brunette scoots closer to the window, making room for her. She makes certain that she's at the very edge with her left thigh sticking out in the aisle. She ensures so that when the bus takes a sharp turn (it would eventually) she doesn't accidentally lean into her.

Soon, the bus rumbles out of WMHS's parking lot. From her spot, Kenai can hear everyone in the back having fun and making jokes. Even Mr. Schue has picked up a conversation with the driver despite not being face to face. Yet, there she was presented with an opportunity so close and suddenly she doesn't have it in her to do something about it. 

_Do it. For your sanity. You don't want people hating you._

This rewinds in her head over and over, psyching herself up. One, two, three— NO! NOT YET! One, two— _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t._ Just breathe. Fuck. Why was this so difficult?

Kenai grits her teeth, glaring at the windshield like it had wronged her. From beside her, she feels the other occupant of the seat shift that it has her addressing the strained twine in her nerves, locking her in place. The conversations that spill from the back go through twitching ears and come out as gibberish. Her heartbeat is loud and vigorous. The inside of her mouth feels so dry and she feels the lack of moisture on her tongue, gulping down saliva, but it doesn’t do much good. The line of her spine slowly curves, folding in on herself — trying to feel smaller like that of a dog that sleeps curled up and protecting its organs. Her thumb fiddles with the pointer’s ring on the same hand, nudging the silver band, but she’s not counting. The inside of her head was too busy for such a task. The left hand scratches at the rough material of her jeans, picking at the closing side seam, mindlessly following its descent on her thigh.

  
Scratch.

Scratch.

_Scratch_.

As if a switch had been turned on: "I'm sorry."

Rachel blinks, taken aback after Kenai had snapped bodily towards her.

The spectacled teen blinks as well, her eyes veering from Rachel's stare to the plastic baggy in her small hand, which was extended in her direction.

"Um . . ." Kenai peers at the bag, wondering what the hell was inside of it. 

"You beat me to it," Rachel laughs nervously, not at all showing that usual confidence on and off stage. What’s got her so anxious?

Kenai continues staring at her wordlessly, not offering any sort of acknowledgment to eliminate the awkwardness of the situation. She knows she should (for her sake mostly), but nowhere in her nonexistent résumé did it say that she was skilled at that particular subject.

The diva holds the bag and when seconds go by that Kenai doesn't take it she puts it back into her lap. "I wanted to sincerely apologize for my behavior the other day.” She begins, taking her time to hold contact with Kenai, but it proves to be difficult when the girl has jittery eye movements.

“I concede that I've been acting troublesome as of late. What I told your sister was very horrible of me and I accept full responsibility for my actions. I should know what it is firsthand to be belittled and for not belonging, people going so far as to exclude me from activities as I had done to Echo — trivializing her abilities. You were protecting your younger sibling and I respect that. Moreover, I also agree with you about how this glee club is a team. All roles are significant to the cause no matter how little the role may be, whether it is swaying in the background or providing body count for this activity to be maintained."

_Oh boy.  
_

_She **does** ramble._

"I'm sorry. Please," Rachel extends the baggy once again. "Take this as a token of my expression of regret."

  
Brown and brown hold steady until the one hidden by glass lenses deliberately settles on the flimsy compartment.

"What is it?" Kenai pushes up her glasses when the bus jostles a bit roughly and her lenses slide down. She eyes the plastic suspiciously. 

"'I’m sorry' cookies."

"You should give those to my sister. It's her feelings that you hurt." Kenai can’t help the truth, nor the bitterness in her voice.

Rachel nods once, smoothing her dress over her legs when they didn’t need to be. A nervous trait?

"I did."

Kenai gives her a confused look. Echo hasn’t told her anything.

"I apologized to her in the washroom when school ended the other day. She accepted my apology.”

The native hums, figuring out why her sister had taken so long using the bathroom. She just assumed she needed to take a number two.

“This one's for you." She extends the bag, licking her lips while curiously pausing to look at Kenai.

"Why are you saying sorry to me? I— I made you cry. I left you in the bathroom."

Rachel lowers the bag again, a crinkle between her brows, "Bathroom?"

"First day of school?"

The brunette shakes her head.

Kenai blinks. "Fabray and Lopez came out of the stalls and they looked like they were about to bully you?"

Rachel pauses, sitting back and looking at her as if she hadn't already been doing so. Maybe a minute has gone by and nothing. She just looks at Kenai like the answers are on her face. Not at all comforted by this strange behavior, Kenai busies herself, eyes falling back to her jeans.

Until: "Yes, I do remember now. You're correct." 

Kenai deflates.

"But I deserved it.” Rachel shrugs as Kenai directs her attention on her once more, her dark brows scrunching. “What you said. My encounter with Quinn and Santana was uneventful. I assure you, they have said worse."

She doesn't know what to say to that. So she keeps her mouth locked tight and watches Rachel, very much perplexed. Her head was going: Quinn. Rachel. Quinn. Rachel. Quinn. Rachel. What the hell happened between them?! And worse was said?! Oh, no. Was Quinn setting her up? That couldn't be, right? She swore on Gertrude and the Boxcar Children. Honestly, life should have cheat sheets; she could use about a dozen of them right about now.

"Think of this as a peace offering. A lot of people hate me," Rachel admits with a sad curve of the lip. "So I've been thinking that I might as well make an effort to get at least a few real friends in this school."

The tan teen replies with the same sad smile, more out of familiarity than anything. 

"If I have to be completely truthful then I'm mostly motivated by our first interaction with one another," Rachel says this with a twinkle in her eye. "It was a good memory too."

It doesn't take long for Kenai to remember what she's talking about.

_When you only got a hundred years to live_

They sing together softly.

A tingle rushes up Kenai's neck without her permission. The spectacled girl chuckles awkwardly, scratching the skin over her knuckles and wordlessly cursing at her body's strange habits. 

"I'm sorry," Kenai repeats and with no clue of what else to say. "For what I said." She looks down, warmth stretching over her face.

"I'll accept your apology if you accept mine." Rachel grins before her eyebrows crease, remembering something. "And this bag of 'I'm sorry' cookies." The tiny brunette raises the plastic baggy again, shaking its contents for good measure. 

Kenai wants to take it, but she doesn't know what's in them. She's allergic to tree nuts and those cookies could have anything in them for all she knew. 

"I made sure that I used ingredients that were safe for everyone to eat."

"There aren't any tree nuts in there?"

"You have my word."

Thoughtfully, Kenai allows her eyes to settle on Rachel's face even if she's still daunted and invariably fretful. The brunette beams back at her with a blinding smile. Now that she's near and not so focused on defending her sister, she catches sight of a beauty mark on the left side of the girl's tanned cheek. Besides that feature, Kenai also notes the tiny scar that disappears into her hairline, which doesn't blemish, nor spoils her appearance. It enhances it even.

She's tempted to ask about it.

_Sigh._

Instead, with a soft expression of thanks, Kenai accepts the baggy and receives a bigger treat in the form of a downright dazzling grin from her seatmate. 

She's such a sucker for girls.

Satisfied with the turn of events, Kenai casts a smile in Rachel's direction as she watches the brunette proceed to where Finn stands with his hands bunched into his pockets, looking very much out of place and out of his comfort zone. 

"BOO!"

With a slow and jaded turn of the head, Kenai merely stares at Echo, very much unaffected by her attempt to instill fear, "Wow. I'm quaking. Quick, Echo. Rush me to the hospital before I get a heart attack." Though her words are urgent, her dry tone and deadpan expression give off the opposite vibe.

Nose scrunching with disappointment, the curly-haired Tally punches her sister in the arm. "Shut up," but the smile on her face says otherwise. Not even a second later, "Soooooooo? Did ya kiss and make up?"

The teasing has barely begun and Kenai was already done with her bullshit. "I accepted her apology."

Echo's smile widens.

Kenai raises a brow when her younger sibling continues to stare at her in that serial killer way that freaks her out. "What?"

"When am I gonna have a sister-in-law?" Echo asks with a cheeky lift in her voice.

"Not for another ten years, kid." Kenai shoves her sister's head away when she gets uncomfortably close. 

Scoffing, Echo fixes her hair even when it hadn't changed a bit, "Imagine I get married before you do."

"Imagine you get a girlfriend at all."

"Imagine you stop panicking every time you talk to a girl you like."

"Imagine not being such a whiny bitch."

"Pretty sure you're talking about yourself."

"We both know you're projecting your feelings onto me."

"Well, you're — you're —"

"Stuttering? Why yes, you are."

"You talk like an old man sometimes."

"Thank you, dear."

Echo huffs, giving up. "Seriously, you like this girl or something," she pushes this inkling as they begin walking to the entrance of Carmel High School's auditorium.

Kenai opens the door, letting her sister in first before following, rolling her eyes at her sister's back. "I've told you before."

The freshman gives her a ' _so'_ look. "Feelings change fast. Come on. You probably felt some sort of tingle."

"Tingle?"

"Yeah." Echo nods aggressively, wiggling her brows. "You know? In your thing?"

Disgust mars her face. "Okay. No. I draw the line here. We are not talking about what gets me—" Kenai stops short, realizing where she's headed. "You know what? I'll just stop talking."

"We're both adults—" Echo ignores the scoff from her sister. "I understand that sometimes the feelings people get about another person is more about lust than love."

"I am neither lusting nor loving anyone at the moment."

In a disbelieving tone, Echo replies, "What was the whole thing with MySpace then? I refuse to believe you made me and Suzy do all that work just to be nice to this girl."

Now standing in line for the concession stand, Kenai throws a look of offense at her sibling, "I'm nice." She insists before noticing Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury in front of them. So as any student that cares what their teacher thinks of them, she hauls in all her no-no words and puts on her good girl cap.

"Nuh-uh." Echo shakes her head. "Not to me."

"That's because you just remember the times we insult each other. I've done plenty of nice stuff for you."

"Really? Name one."

Kenai scoffs once more, but continues anyway, rejecting the idea of Echo only remembering their arguments, "Remember that time when we went to the thrift store? We were about seven to eight years old and you wanted this tiny toy horse, but mom said you couldn't have it 'cause you were being an idiot that day."

Echo hums. "I remember all that except for the part on me being an idiot."

"Of course you don't," Kenai is quick to whisper under her breath. "Anyways, you were crying a lot because you couldn't have it and I felt bad for you since mom was ignoring you. Frankly, you were embarrassing me since the customers started looking at us. Well, mostly they were staring at you 'cause your face was so red and snot was running down your—"

"I get it." Echo hisses. 

"The point is that I went back into the aisle where all the toys were while you were being tugged away by mom. I searched through that bin of dusty toys, despite my allergies, and I grabbed it." Mindful of the two teachers in front of them she lowers her voice. "I didn't have money so I snuck it into my pocket. I noticed there weren't any cameras or any detectors at the door, so I knew I wouldn't get caught."

Finishing her story, the eldest Tally turns back to her sister and is met with a fish-like expression that almost has her laughing if it weren't for the other people in line. 

Her sister, on the other hand, isn't as aware or just doesn't care, "Holy shit!"

The spectacled girl inhales sharply as everyone turns to look at them, including Pillsbury and Schuester. The attention has her desperately wishing that she had brought her baseball cap with her. Oh boy, if they were alone she would have smacked her upside the head. 

"Echo." Ms. Pillsbury gives her those warning eyes while Mr. Schue mirrors her disapproval.

"Sorry." The reprimanded student sheepishly pardons herself.

"I mean, _holy shit_." Echo murmurs after the chaperones have resumed their conversation (as if that'll alleviate the damage). "That was you? I just assumed that mom felt bad so she bought it without me knowing."

"No, dumbass. I stole it."

"Shit . . ."

"What?" Kenai warily eyes the starstruck look that's projected at her.

"All this time I thought you were a goody-two-shoes."

The spectacled girl shrugs halfheartedly as the line shortens. She wants some licorice. 

"Fine. You're nice." Echo relents. "Thank you for that though. Not for the stealing, but for the thought behind it, I guess."

"Eh. I don't know what I was thinking. Thinking about it now, it was stupid of me to give you something that you threw a tantrum over. Ya know? To give you a toy after you were acting like a complete brat? Not really good parenting if you ask me."

Echo smirks. "Ignoring the brat comment — _You love me_."

Kenai rolls her eyes again, a habit that won't be getting old anytime soon. "Unfortunately."

"Say it."

"I'm good."

"Say it before you regret not saying it. I could die any second like those people in the _Final Destination_ movies."

Kenai's eyes blaze. "Don't joke about that," she reprimands, taking that kind of thing seriously.

Words have power.

You never know what could happen.

Begrudgingly, she throws in the towel, "Love you too, jackass."

Echo beams.

After Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester take off, seemingly deciding they have a better option than theater food, Echo begins: 

"I still find it strange though." Echo notices her sister's puzzled brows. "You barely know Rachel. And I _know_ you. We were in the same womb for nine months so that should be worth something. So what I don't understand is how you can put the effort into being nice to someone you don't know. Admit it. She's got your thing tingling even if she's kinda a nightmare."

Mentally exhausted by the conversation, Kenai lets out an exasperated breath. "I don't like her. End of story. Plus, you saw the comment, didn't you? You saw what people were posting."

"I saw what Quinn posted."

Crap.

"The company you keep is— Look. I like Suzy. She's got a bitchy mouth but she's nice. Rachel? She is a loser like us. We have to stick together. Hopefully, her time in glee club can mellow her personality out a bit. Quinn?"

Kenai doesn't like that pause Echo takes.

"I know Quinn saved us and all — suspicious and everything. But still, she saved us. But, Quinn? _Quinn?_ " Echo nudges Kenai when she looks away, too stubborn to hear it. "She's _popular_. Cheerleader. People call her the HBIC for a reason. You _know_ what people like _her_ do to people like _us_." 

By the time Echo finishes voicing her worries, it's their turn at the cash register.

Echo doesn't seem to notice the shift in the line as Kenai steps up to the counter. Her sister doesn't follow the expected norm.

Anxiously, Kenai shoots her sister a troubled frown where she still stands, the people behind her beginning to look frustrated due to the delay.

"I'm figuring it out, Echo. Now, come on. Move up please." Kenai persists, getting agitated by the eyes on them, the beginnings of sweat overlapping her neck. 

The look that she receives is clear as day. It's one of disappointment. "I'm not hungry anymore." Echo strides away, leaving Kenai staring after her as mortification tucks over the tissues of her nervous system.

A throat is cleared.

The counterwoman with a blue and white striped apron smiles at her awkwardly. "Hi, what will you be ordering today?"

She admits that she may have enjoyed the performance too much. How could she not? They were marvelous, athletic, organized, and FUN. Holy shit! The members of Vocal Adrenaline are what she aspired to be as a dancer, to have stage presence. 

Kenai doesn't hear Tina's stuttering, "We're d-d-doomed," as she stands along with the majority of the audience (minus her group members), clapping as best as she can with the performance pamphlet in one hand.

Two hands grab at either side of her biceps and force her down into her seat. 

She looks at Echo and Kurt with a pout. "What was that for?" 

_Jeez, they could show some appreciation or at least some sportsmanship._

Echo doesn't answer, headstrong over their earlier conversation.

So she turns to Kurt who shakes his head at her admonishingly. 

"What?"

"You should be brooding with _your_ glee club."

* * *

Now?

Now she's brooding.

Like how she spends her lunchtime every day, Kenai sits next to Quinn catching her up on Mr. Schue's resignation. "He said that you have to give up what you love sometimes."

"Maybe it's for the best." 

Kenai sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. "I just — I didn't like it at first. Being my awkward self and hating change, I found it difficult to let go and spend my time with strangers. When I finally loosen up, _this_ happens."

"Why don't you join the Cheerios?" Kenai turns to look at her like she's gone mad. "What? I can see it. You're athletic. You like to dance. What's the problem?" Quinn asks, with a smile.

What's the problem? Her squad is full of bitches, that's what. She can't exactly say that though for obvious reasons. The spectacled girl starts with jumbled words. "First of all, I hate skirts. Those?" She points at said uniform with disgust. "HA! No. The top?" Kenai moves a hand forward, plucking at Quinn's shoulder, the pad of her pinky brushing over warm skin. "It's sleeveless. I have stretch marks that make me self-conscious. The cheering?" Scoff. "Don't even get me started. When I talk I whisper. Case closed."

"Case _open_ ," Quin interjects while Kenai gives her a deadpan look. "You have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable at some point."

"I have!"

"Oh yeah? When?" The blonde raises her brow, instigating slightly. 

"I apologized to Berry. That was a discomforting experience."

There's a minor twitch in the other girl's lip at the mention of the brunette; it was something that Kenai wouldn't have noticed if not for her keenness to give attention to the blonde like she rightfully deserves. She disregards her piqued interest at the motion, as well as disregarding her sister's disapproval.

Quinn hums. "How'd that turn out?" She asks with a careful approach, the delivery of the question slackened and unsure.

"Weird."

"You always describe things as weird."

"Fine. It was unconventional."

"Why?"

Kenai opens her mouth, struggling to choose her words before letting out a deep sigh instead. "I thought she would have put up a fight. Ya know? I was thinking a lot about how she wouldn't accept my apology that quickly since her personality is so strong, but . . . she did."

"And you're having trouble wrapping your head around it."

"Exactly. She even gave me these delicious cookies that she calls 'I'm sorry' cookies. The little star designs were adorable and _yummy_." At the mention of the last part, she avidly rubs her stomach with both hands after having leaned back into the seat and is now giving Quinn a goofy look that's mixed with satisfaction and a tongue hanging out.

Quinn rolls her eyes playfully. "Sounds like she's bribing you with food. The Berry I'm familiar with would have given you the cold shoulder until you apologized again. She's the type that likes getting chased around since it doesn't happen at all. Well. Except for that JBI freshman that sweats over her knee-high socks."

"I'm not bribable!" Kenai voices, disgruntled.

The audacity!

Quinn raises that brow again.

"Okay, okay. Maybe at certain times." Kenai quickly admits while Quinn shakes her head with disappointment.

" _What?_ Food is the best method to achieve that."

* * *

Echo grumbles under her breath, speed walking to her locker after school. The teacher had held the entire class back claiming that: "The bell doesn't dismiss you! I do!" The curly-haired freshman rolls her eyes, just the thought of it was irritating.

She can worry about that later though.

Kenai had this habit of worrying if she was late and as much as she hated to admit it (despite their love-hate siblingship and their previous disagreement) she didn't want her butthead of a sister to start panicking in the middle of the hallway. Ay, Dios! She was a teenager, but the older Tally acts like she's a toddler that has a knack for wandering. 

She admits that it _does_ happen from time to time.

But having a lot of pride and wanting to keep her dignity intact she'll act like she doesn't and will start a squabble if it was even suggested. Squabble: because that word just sounds funny to her ears. 

Midshake of her head, Echo recognizes all four figures in her path. 

"What are you doing talking to her?" Quinn asks Finn with Santana loyally by her side, most probably referring to Rachel. Her tone is something that Echo notes as very different and mismatched compared to how she was treating her older sibling. _What's her deal?_ She swears that if she ever finds out that Quinn is being a two-faced then she has a fun-sized Tally to be on a lookout for.

The milky-skinned native hasn't forgotten what she warned her sister about, but she also knows that arguing with her sister will do them no good. They worked great as a team and it will be a constant in their lives for as long as they lived. So she does what she does best whenever she starts an argument. She stashes it away in her metaphorical trunk of "Forget These." She's not going to apologize for what she said. She'll _think_ about apologizing if she does end up being wrong about her assumption, but most certainly you won't find her saying sorry. 

From where she was, Echo could see Finn flailing in his head. Typical popular kids. Death by association!

"Science project — we're partners." Rachel saves him while the tall boy smiles with innocence.

Echo passes behind the Cheerios, careful not to knock into Santana, who she's positive will make a crack at her because that's just who she is.

"Christ Crusaders tonight at 5:00, my house." She hears Quinn say and it makes her stomach drop at what that implies.

_Oh no. They're dating . . . Kenai's gonna be disappointed._

With a furrowed brow, Echo gives up on speed walking and dashes to her locker, unaware of Santana glaring at the back of her head.

"Runt." The cheerleader says, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

The tan Cheerio is also unaware of Quinn rolling her eyes at her before ditching her second-in-command.

"Hey, Q. Look at that—" Santana turns to her captain and only meets the eyes of a hormonal freshman boy who stares like a deer caught in headlights. Scowling, the Latina eyes the boy and promises a slushie: "You'll get an orange one tomorrow." She's pleased by the fear in his eyes and marches down the hallway, aching to tear the blonde a new one. 

* * *

"Tina, where's Artie?" Kenai hears Echo ask the girl from behind them. Since Brad the piano player was busy, Echo finally holds the reign over the grand piano.

The quiet teen replies with a shrug.

The glee club — or what's left of it — is gathered on the stage to practice whatever it was they were practicing. Frankly, she doesn't know anymore. Not wanting to be the root of backlash and tears, Kenai presses her lips together as Rachel tries hard to be a leader for them. 

It's been about two days since they've called for a truce, yet there hasn't been a window of opportunity to talk some more aside from apologies and 'I'm sorry' cookies. In the face of that, Rachel has initiated a few smiles in greeting or even tiny hellos when they've passed each other in the hallway, but other than the stated that was it. Kenai didn't know what she was expecting. Of course, she had many compliments that she had hoped to share in regards to the performances that she had watched during the first week of school, but that would be creepy.

How would she even begin to say that?

Oh, by the way, I've been watching you since the first day of school. Your singing is phenomenal. Bye!

No.

Reflecting on what has happened so far, it still shocks her how she has attained a lot more friends in her first month at WMHS than she ever did in her entire year at Fillmore High School. Given that she can count all her true friends on a single hand, it was still better than only counting the thumb, which represented her sister (it was really sad). 

Damn. She went from socially anxious to wanting more people to call friends.

"Look, you guys, these steps are not hard. _I've_ been doing them since preschool." Rachel gestures to the bespectacled teen and Kenai isn't positive about what this might entail. "Back me up, Kenai."

As if a spotlight had been rudely shined on her, Kenai feels the weight of five pairs of eyes. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens. They remain staring at her as if she holds the answers to the world. HA! Fat chance. Kenai clears her throat, "Not everyone is born to be natural at dancing, Berry. You need to have more patience." She urges, attentive with her tone, not wanting Rachel to get the wrong idea. The last thing they need is another tear to be shed. 

"I have to agree with you on that." Mercedes pointedly stares Rachel down as the shorter girl locks eyes with her, averse to backing away from the challenge.

"I'm sorry, did I miss the election for queen? Because I didn't vote for you." Kurt decides to throw in his two cents. 

At the sound of his voice, Kenai turns to him, but she can't stop her gaze from drifting to whatever it was that was blue and wrapped around his waist. "What do you call that?" She asks absentmindedly. Only Kurt, Tina, and her sister hear her. The former glaring at the spectacled girl over Tina's head and the other two snickering audibly. 

"It's called fashion." He replies harshly.

"S-s-sure." Tina rolls her eyes as the Tallys cackle along with her. 

Kurt scoffs at them, "Asians are so evil." This seems to only make them laugh harder as Rachel and Mercedes pause their spat to turn to them for a moment. 

The brunette shakes her head, remembering where she left off. "I know what I'm talking about. I won my first dance competition when I was three months old."

"Doing what? Wriggling on the floor like a worm?" Echo can't help but joke.

Rachel's hands find her hips as she glares at the younger teen.

"Key, she's giving me the stink eye." Echo points at the brunette while tugging on the back of Kenai's shirt like a petulant little thing.

The Oregonian wrinkles her nose at her sibling. "You did that. You're on your own."

Then Finn comes in, rolling Artie across the stage and smelling suspiciously like poop. 

"Look, I owe you guys an apology." Finn starts. "I never should have quit. I don't want to be the guy that just drives around throwing eggs at people."

"That was you?" Rachel asks and Kenai's eyes narrow at that.

"You and your friends threw pee balloons at me," Kurt says.

The Tallys share a look of disgust before directing their attention to the quarterback.

"I know."

Kurt adds, "You nailed all my lawn furniture to my roof."

"I wasn't actually there for that, but I'm really sorry. Look, that isn't who I am, and I'm tired of it. This is what I want to be doing, with you guys. I used to think that this was like the lamest thing on Earth and maybe it is, but we're all here for the same reason — 'cause we want to be good at something."

Like a switch, everything falls into place.

"Rachel. Kenai. Both of you can do choreography." Finn assigs them the role.

Kenai's eyes are wide as she turns to the left, Rachel already watching her with a blank expression that worries her. Kenai averts her gaze, but when she lifts her head, the brunette's lips shift into a smile. She grins back shyly. 

_Ahhhhhhh_ , so that's her window of opportunity. 

As they move across the stage, Kenai listens to Rachel's suggestions.

"Come here." When Kenai gets to the brunette, her hands grasp at her arms, nudging her into place. "Since you're setting the example for the male lead, I want us to meet downstage center at ' _it goes on and on and on and on_ ' and our right hands will meet. We’ll spin around once with our hands still together until we're back in our original directions."

Kenai follows her instructions but her face is troubled.

”What?”

The multiracial girl licks her lips, “It's not that I don’t like the move, but . . . I found the song to be more intimate than just handholding.” She ends it there and Rachel doesn’t offer a response. She realizes that she’s waiting for her to explain more. “The lyrics are talking about sharing a night with cheap alcohol. Sounds like a recipe for a one night stand.”

The brunette blinks, moving her stare to the floor in contemplation, but Kenai suspects that the mention of sex is the cause of it all.

”May I suggest something?”

Rachel nods. “Go for it.”

”Um . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Would it be all right if I showed you? There is a lot more touching involved.”

The shorter girl’s reluctance surfaces, but she spreads out her arms as if saying _do your worst_.

”So I like the part about meeting in the middle. Instead of grabbing each other’s hands, I was thinking more along the lines of this.” Kenai lightly slides her arm around Rachel’s torso, hand curling around the brunette’s hip. With her other hand, she adjusts Rachel’s right arm to mirror her movement.

Satisfied with how the image appears, she stares into Rachel’s eyes with an innocent look as she leads her petite body around before she comes back to her original spot. After all, the chemistry was an important part when it comes to dancing with a partner. If both or even just one of the participants looked uncomfortable then the narrative would be translated into a whole different story.

She’s aware of how straightforward this may seem. She doesn’t know how to explain it, but if it came down to it then it was probably because of the activity. When it comes to dancing, there’s this confidence that she gains that she becomes an entirely different person. She’s more at home, more comfortable in her skin. Her actions speak louder than anything she can say. Despite her face flushing and her ears feeling as though they’re melting off, she doesn’t feel sheepish about intimately holding Rachel. Wow. She realizes that she popped her OWN bubble.

Rachel isn’t faring any better with her wide eyes and slackened jaw; what doesn't help her case is that she doesn't realize that her gaze is immensely glued onto her. 

”Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three.” Mercedes taps on the mic. “Take her out to dinner first!” She yells out from her spot as Kurt and Tina laugh on either side of her.

Usually, she’d be embarrassed by these teasing remarks, but she simply turns to the ebony singer and smirks.

Kenai lets go of Rachel's hip, interlacing her fingers together as she rocks back and forth on her heels. “So?”

Rachel clears her throat unable to meet her eyes and nods, a hue of red still present on her face as she covers her mouth. "You're very blunt."

"I'm sorry. I'm usually like this when it comes to choreographing pieces. I just get really passionate." Kenai chuckles nervously, pushing up her glasses.

"No, no. Don't apologize. That moment makes sense in the dance. Do you have any more suggestions?"

Kenai grins.

* * *

After Mr. Schue reclaims his role as their director, Kenai finds herself at her locker once more.

Echo follows her movements from beside her as she organizes her books into her bag.

"Just being honest, but I think you should go for Rachel."

Kenai huffs but doesn't respond.

"I'm serious. You had her looking like a tomato the other day. What's stopping you?"

"The fact that I'm not going for _anyone_." Kenai gives her a sarcastic look.

"Quinn has a boyfriend."

Kenai's hand pauses over her pencil pouch. "I know. I don't care."

Echo frowns, expecting her sister to be sobbing her eyeballs out. Not this.

"Damn. First, you stole a thrift shop toy and now you're gonna steal someone's girlfriend. That's cold."

"Ugh. Echo, I'm saying this in the nicest way possible, but I think you need to check the wax in your ears because you're not understanding me one bit. I don't like _anyone_. I don't have a crush on _anyone_. And I sure as hell am not a homewrecker. Understand?" She asks slowly.

"Crystal." They walk towards the exit. The school was empty save for the one janitor and a few afterschool students. Echo drags her feet across the floor, shoes squeaking. As an afterthought, she mutters, not realizing the consequences: "And you said you didn't flirt. Practically on each other."

_SMACK!_

Echo rubs the back of her head as a smug look crosses Kenai's face.

" _Owwwwww!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any form of commentary is appreciated no matter how much or how little you write. 
> 
> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Don't be afraid to let me know.
> 
> It's been three months since I updated guys, so I might be writing hot garbage so let me know.
> 
> Also, I don't know when I'll be updating again, so see ya whenever!


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